Spanish Gold and English Rum
by KleineVogel
Summary: Arturo's ship is attacked out at sea, but more than gold is taken by the infamous Arthur Kirkland. Warnings: forced, yaoi, spanish, co-written. Sorry for miss translations or lack of translations, am working on getting those fixed as well as new chapters
1. Spanish Gold, English Rum

Warnings: rape, Pirate!England, broken!Spain... if you cannot guess this is a forced yaoi yet there was your blatant warning.

Note: This is a co-written story between myself and Akuoni

Don't like don't read.

Reviews are appreciated

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"Ah~ Capitano!" yelled a crewman despreately, "El barco de las Piratas es mas rapido de nosotros! Qu-"

"Nosotros luchamos!" Came the desperate reply. The green-eyed youth recognized that flag. His heart sank. It was His flag... The flag of infamous pirate… Captain Arthur Kirkland… Scourge of the seven seas. And looter of ships. He despaired of his gold ever reaching the sunny shores of his homeland. His crew loaded the canons, but he knew it was a lost cause, his face holding none of its usual cheer.

"Dispara cuando dispuestan!" He commanded, sending the first volley of rounds on their way... Hopefully that would slow down that filo de puta enough for him to escape…

Arthur turned to look back at his men with a grin. They had found the Spanish ship they were looking for. "Ready the cannons boys! Don't sink her though we want that gold!" he said pleased. A chorus of aye captain followed as men ran about ready to attack. Their captain just adjusted his cap his gun loaded and near his hand. He was ready to board already.

A volley of fire was heard from the other ship as they approached, "Return fire!" he hollered as men scrambled to avoid any shots that actually made it to their ship. A manic grin plastered to his face as his ship quickly closed the remaining distance, his ships cannons returning fire. Nothing smelled better than the sea mixed with gunpowder. And it never smelled sweeter than approaching a Spanish vessel heavy with gold from the new world.

His men needed no farther orders once the ships were close enough moving to board the other ship quickly. Fewer holes meant fewer chances for any gold getting lost. He'd sink it afterward; he had no use for a ship built by those ignorant fools. His own gun made its way to his hand, cutlass in other as he joined in on the fight.

The Spaniard despaired as his men were shot and cut down. But this time... This time was the last time! He turned, his blood red cape catching the faint wind as he clambered down to the hold. He would take down the ship... and that accursed pirate as well! He smiled grimly and wiped gunpowder off of his cheek. He only had one shot at this…

He kicked over several barrels of the black sand, sending it flying, and sat down in the center while black dust settled on himself and his beloved ship. Los Tres Amigos was a strange name… but it was from a time when he was greater than that man. He knew the captain would follow. This ritual fight had happened before… Though now the Spaniard was desperate. Now he did not care if he died… Not so long as he took the bane of his existence out with him…

A sound! He became still… as only one of their kind can. Invisible to mere humans. And so he was. But not to his own kind… As that capitano demonio was…

The pirate strode across the deck of the ship. The fighting was not what it once was against the Spaniard. Turning on the ball of his foot he shot another attacker and looked around for the captain of this ship. He was there, somewhere. Arthur dropped though the hatch knowing the man wouldn't be a coward just yet hiding in his quarters.

He landed below kneeling and looked around the hold. There. Covered in black powder, as everything was here. Slowly Arthur stood, "Anthony how pleasant to see you again," he said smirking, "I thank you for the gold again." He didn't raise his gun, simply waited. If the bloody Spaniard bastard knew what was best he'd surrender now.

"Arturo..." He responded, his teeth flashing white against the black powder. His face underneath was grim. He knew it was a lost cause. Once boarded by pirates... Your cargo was lost to you. But he had gunpowder. If Arthur fired in the gunpowder filled room... they would both die. His face was split by a strip of white. The smile was manic; the crazed conquistador grin that sent shivers down men's spines.

"We can't use guns here amigo~ and swords are a danger as well~" He lifted up his hands, revealing flint in one hand... and a dagger in the other. His face was grim again, "one spark Arturo... And we all get blown sky high. Can you outrun it capitano diablo?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed but he grinned none the less. Confidently he strode towards the desperate man. "I see you have decided to give up then Anthony," he said smirking raising his cutlass. "Hardly a fitting end for a former opponent," he goaded. Arthur couldn't see the other man's pride letting him give up so easily. And taking his own life hoping to sink his pirate crew in the process was defiantly the coward's way out.

He didn't doubt his own ability either to stop the manic from lighting the ship afire. His own pistol made its way back to his holster and he drew a dagger out. "I never thought you one for suicide, but it does suit your coward ways so well" he continued to tease. The fighting above was quieting, Arthur knew his men had won and would be headed down here soon to collect their prize.

"Desperate measures Amigo…" he said, falsely cheerful. His expression was fixed, desperate didn't cover it. He was out of his mind trying to keep the Englishman from taking his gold. He knew the other was willing to call his bluff… Too bad it wasn't. He smiled oddly as he struck the first spark. It died before it hit the floor. He eyed the cutlass. His own was still at his side. He could draw it… and the outcome would still be the same in his mind. The only thing not covered in the black powder was the Enlgishman himself.

"Yo supongo… una mas juego…" He spoke softly to himself, drawing his sword, "We shall dance once more Arturo… You win if you avoid killing us, estas de acuerdo?"

Arthur laughed desperate measures indeed. His eyes widened for a second seeing Anthony actually move to do as he intended. Luck favored him instead of the desperate Spaniard today. He looked back up at his opponent, "You're bloody mad," he said still highly amused.

He liked the terms of the battle, an actual challenge for him. Arthur didn't doubt his ability to defeat Anthony, again. "We have an accord then," he said before attacking the other country. Blades clashed, and obviously sparks flew. The pirate grinned and attacked again; even if he did fail at least he'd go out with a bang.

"Loco? Estamos todos locos aquí..." he responded with a grin. He brought up his own sword just in time as the pirate attacked. His grin stretched wide with true pleasure as they fought, going back and forth. He attempted to cause enough sparks to ignite the powder kegs, while the pirate attempted to keep them from igniting.

That's when he felt it... He cried out as his sword was knocked away by a lucky strike. He lost. And now he had to face the consequences. He glared at the Pirate with impotent anger... Bound by his oath... It was Arthur's choice ... He could be held captive or executed... or worse...

"I win," Arthur said smugly moving his sword to Anthony's throat. He grabbed the front of the other's jacket pulling him close making sure to keep the sword pressed lightly into the other's throat. The pirate in him loved the site of his enemy helpless; Anthony was the only one who could even dream of challenging him. There was just something about this…Arthur laughed, "So how does it feel knowing the sea's are mine?" He put his face closer to his prisoner, "That your mine?" he smirked and kissed the other nation hard and forceful.

At that moment his men came downstairs successfully stopping any other plans the pirate might have had. Arthur shoved Anthony away. He seethed his dagger keeping his sword trained on the Spaniard. "Put him in irons boys, and have him escorted to the captain's quarters. We want the captain comfortable," he sneered his men moving to do as their captain said.

Once the other was secured Arthur turned and headed back to his own ship. "Take all we can, and the captain here wants to see her sunk. We might as well honor his wishes," he said heading up two of his men dragging their prisoner after him. The gold could wait, Arthur had another prize.

"..." HIs eyes narrowed angrily as the blade pointed at him. He gritted his teeth as the other claimed the sea as his own. He bared his teeth at the other, white flashing brightly against the blackness of the powder. He stiffened in shock as he was kissed, unable to respond in his surprise.

To his relief, the boisterous crew of the Englishman came down and he was released. He wasn't surprised to be clapped in irons. He was important after all. A ransom would be sent and he would be scolded and then sent to the new world to get more gold. He didn't resist as he was grabbed by the rough crewmen and bundled into the heavy chains. Though his curses and insults would make even Gilbert blush to hear it.

He refused to be dragged, but the chains were heavy. He was red-faced and gasping by the time they deposited him at the cabin. But he hadn't been dragged or hold to keep up. He had that at least to show. He collapsed on his knees in the center of the room, his hands on the ground before him. He didn't look up. This was the room of that capitano bastardo...

Arthur plunged a hand into the brunette's hair yanking the head back. "How much do you think you're worth this time?" he asked, "I have to make sure your government pays me properly for their whore back." He loved the fight in the other's eyes even though there was no hope for him. It was an endless game they played, and he loved every second of it.

Antonio's eyes glittered with emerald hatred as his head was pulled back roughly. He gritted his teeth, wanting to hurl insults and abuse at the captain who he had to fulfill his bet with. He hated this diablo with every fiber of his being for what he was doing... But he just... He couldn't win!

Letting go of Anthony's hair Arthur walked across his cabin to hang up his hat and coat. His crew would take care of everything else, so he had all the time in the world. And there was something about Spain's current position… Arthur drew his knife walking back over. "You didn't want to see your ship disappear under the waves now did you?" he asked tapping the blade against his captive's cheek.

He remained still as the blade came to rest upon his cheek. A lovers caress in cold steel. His jaw tightened as he repressed the words he itched to hurl at the other. Of course he didn't want to see Los Tres Amigos sink below the waves. He knew the reason for the name. Anyone who knew the three did.

His breathing was finally starting to even out, and the flush of exertion was leaving his tanned face. He was not at one hundred percent yet, but he was ready to do battle. It seemed the pirata was in a strange mood today. Strange moods were dangerous. He had several scars already to prove it.

"You're right; I would be the better judge of how much you're worth," Arthur replied as if his captive had spoken, moving the knife to the back of the Spaniard's neck. Smiling he twisted it and slipped the blade under the collar of the shirt and coat. Winding his free hand into the other's hair again he leaned forward cutting the fabric.

His expression was downright murderous as the other spoke. He was not a whore. He was a man. A capitano. He was strong. Macho! But the fine hairs on the base of his neck stood on end as he bristled with a mixture of anger, hatred and fear. He refused to make even a grunt as the Englishman grabbed his hair in such a harsh grip.

It was surprising how quiet his captive was. He was expecting insults, or at least a small struggle. Oh well, Antonio was hardly the opponent he use to be. He looked down at the head now near his thigh and smiled. There would be sound yet from this bastard's mouth. Arthur knelt, pulled the other's face to meet his and kissed him again. Nothing gentle for this whore, not now, not ever. The knife left his other hand long enough for him to free his 'vital regions.' If the other wasn't going to talk, his mouth had to be put to some use.

He did struggle, for the brief moment their lips were locked in a forced and painful kiss. But not a sound. He saw the want for him to release a sound. So he would remain quiet. It would not end well, but this small rebellion was all he could do. He had lost his freedom yet again. And now he was a prisoner for the other to do with as he wished.

He heard the sound of fabric moving and looked. He wished he hadn't... His heart sank as realization cut in. This mood the other was in was one he definitely would not like. He looked up, the look in his eyes ...And face... said quite plainly what he would do if that ended up anywhere near his mouth. It was not an idle threat. It was a fact.

Arthur smirked and picked up the knife again bringing the point around to the other's mouth. "Open," he said. Obviously he wasn't going to trust his own flesh to a face like that, but Anthony wasn't going to get off the hook. "Me or the knife," he said, "It would be better for you to suck now," the pirate warned. He'd break this proud nation and enjoy doing it.

He stood again keeping the knife poised at his captive's mouth. His other hand was still fisted into his hair to prevent him from pulling away. The pirate wanted the other to bleed as much as he wanted his other desire fulfilled.

The Spaniard was still for a second more as he weighed his options. Both would be painful. But the knife could kill him. His eyes locked with those of that pirata, hating what he was forced to do and the man forcing him, but eventually they dropped in submission. He slumped, the utter hopelessness of the situation weighing heavily on himself.

The chains weighing him down rattled as he tried to move. To stall. But the way he sat, and the hand fisted in his hair left him unable to get into a more comfortable position. He looked pained as he slowly opened his mouth. As painful as this would be, it was better than the Englishman's ... vital region.

Arthur smiled and moved the knife into his captive's mouth. "Lick," he said removing his hand from the other's head. He trusted himself to be faster than the Spaniard weighed down with chains. With his second hand now free he stoked himself watching Anthony.

He twisted the knife purposely trying to cut the other. The price of pride, the pirate's smile grew; Anthony would pay dearly for it. "Just pretend it's one of those friends of yours," he said almost ready for his captive's ass.

Antonio glared in response before his tongue flicked out to touch the flat of the blade. He winced and a half-puff of pain escaped as it was twisted and bit into the soft flesh of the muscle. He ignored the insulting command to pretend it was his friends. They were not intimate that way, despite claims. Prussia was hung up on his half-brother/rival and his childhood friend. France just wanted the thrill of the conquest. Spain... wanted his to be full of passion. He felt tears of helplessness sting his eyes, but the only sign of their existence was the glittering sheen his emerald eyes took.

"Not enjoying yourself?" Arthur asked moving so he was behind his captive; he pulled the blade away to rest it against Anthony's throat. His other hand pulled down the Spaniard's pants as he rested his chest against Anthony's bare back. "Let's fix that," he said biting at his captive's ear. Quickly he aligned himself with the unprepared hole.

His expression was one of pain as he swallowed a mixture of his saliva and his own blood. But he still did not respond. The Englishman was so interested in hearing his voice. So the Spaniard would fetter it. Unfortunately the Englishman's actions would rob him of any choice.

"It would have been easier for you if you had not favored the blade," he sneered before thrusting. He did not care if he tore anything, the blood would only make it easier for him. The pirate moaned from the feel of the tight muscles clamping down around him.

The Spaniard screamed in agony. His breath escaping him in a thin, reedy wail. He thrashed against his invader, lashing out with surprising speed. But he was unable to escape. Instead, he found himself pressed against the ground while that diablo forced himself into the -had he known- untouched hole. He tensed, his muscles tearing as they clenched around the intrusion. He cried at the pain, unable to contain himself at the feeling of being torn in two.

Arthur smirked, "So your voice does still work," he growled dropping the dagger to grab the Spaniard's hips. He pulled out to shove back in wanting to hear another yell. It was considerably easier the second time blood providing a good lubricant. His mouth moved to Anthony's shoulder biting hard as he sought his own pleasure.

He thrust enjoying the feel of the other struggling against him. There was the fight he expected. The resistance that he wanted, another way to show his dominance. It was not near as much fun if someone didn't try to fight back.

He moaned weakly in response to the comment. Then cried out as his shoulder was bitten, the skin tearing under the Englishman's onslaught. He sobbed in pain as the other man continued to pound him. His face was flushing from the desperate and frantic struggling. But... His struggles weakened as pain spread through him. His chest heaved breathlessly as he tried to get some air into his starved lungs.

It was not long with the other clamping down on his member for him to find his release. He shoved himself deeper quivering deep inside his captive. Arthur lapped at the bite marks he left seeing blood well to the surface. He pulled out and looked at his work, two fingers digging in to feel his work.

What little air he had managed to regain was driven out of him as white heat flooded into him. It burned like lava and felt just as destructive. His struggling was renewed, but there was nothing he could do chained as he was. He made a sound of relief as the Englishman pulled out, thinking that the worst was over. Too soon... He screeched in pain as the fingers dug into him cruelly, becoming coated in the mixture of his blood and the semen of that bastardo.

Arthur laughed pulling the coated fingers out he moved them in the other male's face. "Clean or the blade you so love goes in next" he said. His other hand moved to fix himself up, he had a ship to sail. And he knew this sight would be here for him when he returned.

He looked up pleadingly to the heavens, hidden behind the roof. ~Mi Dios don't make me do this~ But his prayer went unanswered. He turned his tearstained face to those deceptively delicate looking digits, coated with bodily fluids. His face twisting with despair as his lips parted slowly. He didn't want to... But the alternative...

He reached for the knife leaning his chest against the Spaniard once again. His head leaned over his prisoner's shoulder watching. Slowly the pirate brought the blade around, "I see you are wishing for the blade. Perhaps thinking of Francis will make it hurt less," he whispered harshly. Arthur's eyes gleamed eager for either choice his captive made. He wouldn't rush this part, he was sated for now. He had to drive it home how far Spain had fallen compared to him.

A frightened sound escaped him as the blade was picked up and the diablo draped himself over his broken body. He slowly became aware of a constant torrent of sound and realized it came from himself. It was a mixture of English and Spanish... And his vision blurred.  
"Nonono por favor please no por favor please please no..." he wept openly, unable to do anything else. The chains rattled as the force of his sobs made him shake.

The only way to spare himself the pain was to take those disgusting fingers in his mouth. He brought up his shackled hands shakily to take the other's own. He swallowed to soothe his suddenly sore throat, and took the fingers into his mouth. He gagged at the taste, bile rising in his throat, but he fought to keep it down.

Arthur felt a pleased hum rise up inside him. Deciding that was enough for now he pulled his fingers from Anthony's mouth wiping them off on the captured man's ruined clothes. "You do make a good whore," he said kissing the Spaniard's cheek before standing. He seethed the dagger looking down at the broken man. A slow lazy grin appeared on his face as he threaded his fingers through the brunette's hair like he had done earlier. He pulled the head back to look at him, "The seas are mine, you are mine" he repeated before letting go.

The pirate headed to the door slipping on his coat and hat again. He didn't glance back at his captive as he left the superior grin still on his face, his eyes daring the world to challenge him.

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You know if you review there could be more.... just throwing that out there.


	2. Silver chains, Devil's nest

Warnings: Pirate!England, broken!Spain... if you cannot guess this is a forced yaoi (and I'm wondering why you skipped ch1)

Note: This is a co-written story between myself and Akuoni

Don't like don't read. (in which case I'm wondering why you came to ch2)

Reviews are appreciated

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He woke up with a screaming back and a sore throat. His ass and shoulder ached in time with his heartbeat. He sneered as he looked around the gaudy nest of the enemy and wanted nothing more than to destroy it all. His crazed grin made its way across his face as he struggled to his feet. First were those stupid curtains of fine gauze. The rainbow fabrics ripped to shreds. Then came the maps and journals. Page after page falling prey to his anger. He destroyed the bedding... feathers and padding flying through the air.

He was barely able to stand once he finished, but the destruction was cathartic... He yawned and piled up the tattered scraps of fabric and parchment and fashioned a rather nest like bed to sleep on. He had a feeling he wouldn't get much sleep for a while once El Capitano Diablo saw what happened.

Captain Arthur Kirkland knew it would be another day until he was able to make port. His men were eager to spend the earnings they made. He wouldn't make port at a Spanish town, not with the precious cargo he had. He chuckled to himself, "Keep straight course men," he ordered patting his helmsman on the shoulder. "Pray for good winds," he said smiling. It was a rare smile that was neither boastful nor mocking. It changed as he headed down towards his quarters, returning to the familiar smirk on the pirate's face.

The smile disappeared entirely as he opened his door. A scowl replaced it as anger welled up inside him at the state of his quarters. He growled and walked over towards the man sleeping on what was left of his bedding. "Get up," he snarled kicking the Spaniard. The pirate didn't wait for a response before kicking him again. His maps, charts…

Arthur reached down pulling Anthony up by his hair, "I see you have not learned when to stop fighting back," he growled, "Fine if you wish for another lesson. I will be happy to oblige."

A lovely dream about being back in his land with cute little Romano was shattered by the brutal kick. His eyes shot open and a cry of pain escaped him. He glared weakly back at the man who had taken his gold... his pride... his dignity... His virginity... but his anger changed to pain as he was kicked again. His ribs creaked in protest, and he hoped they would not break.

Antonio cried out again as he was brought up by the fist in his hair. His face twisted in pain as his chained hands tried to grab it to alleviate the pain. Just like last time, he refused to speak. Instead he grinned at his anger with his old conquerors grin.

He returned the sadistic smile, before punching his captive. It was going to take more than he thought to break this man. "I'll make sure this time to hand you over to my men when finished. Best to save what is left of my room. I should have guessed you would wish to sleep near your gold," he said dropping him. Another kick before he hung up his coat. He wanted to be comfortable.

He cried out, unable to dodge the harsh blow as it sent him crashing to the hard floor below. He spat blood from loosened teeth on the floor and glared up at the Pirata. He wanted to be heading home to see his Little Tomatito, not covered shoulder to heels in chains and raped.

Arthur looked back at the ruins of his room rolling up his sleeves. Apparently he had been to kind to his captive. The now familiar dagger made its way into his hand.

"Usted tiene mucho menos de lo que había antes, eso es seguro..." he said cheerfully, trying to ignore the shot of fear that worse would happen once this... monstruo bajo la apariencia de un hombre... this diablo finished with him... He could not hide the tell-tale rattle of the chains as he trembled though...

He kneeled in front of his captive. "Don't worry Anthony your gold and flesh shall pay for replacements," the pirate said his eyes glinting maliciously. The sound of the chains rattling showed how scared the once conquistador really was of him. He loved it, the knowledge that others feared him.

Arthur held up the dagger, "This should be going into your stomach right now, but I'll give you a chance to beg for forgiveness," he said smirking. He tilted the blade forward resting the tip against his captive's lower lip. "Unless you want a sword shoved inside you?" he asked raising a brow his amusement at the Spaniard's position growing.

"Yo soy un conquistador del Nuevo Mundo. Soy un capitán. Tengo el orgullo. No voy a arrastrarme a usted ni a nadie. Yo no soy perro, hijo de puta. Cuando estoy libre, me va a castrar con una cuchara de mate y hacerle perder el estrecho de Gibraltar." he responded, his voice rising and falling with the depths of his anger.

He was terrified, but he wouldn't admit it. And he destroyed the room and enjoyed it. He would not apologize. He would be punished sure, but he at least showed he wouldn't give up without a fight...

His eyes darkened in anger, so that was how the Spaniard wanted it. Simply enough for the rant he slapped his captive hard across the face. The blade pressed lightly against Anthony's lip before turning and cutting ever so slightly down to the arm of his captive. "I'll give you a second shot," he said before he plunged the dagger into the upper part of his prisoner's arm. He twisted and pulled it back out bringing the blade back to its original resting spot against Anthony's lip. "Clean it up and we'll see if you understand what an apology is," Arthur said his eyes not once straying from the Spaniard's.

It was because of his titles, what he was known for that the pirate in him wanted this man beaten, defeated. If he could surpass this man, then crush him into the dirt beneath his shoes no one would question him over here. No one would question him on the seas at home. He was the empire on which the sun never sank.

His head snapped to the side as he was slapped. Tears stung his eyes from the pain, but after only a moment he was forced to cry out. His usual 'bad language' filter removed by hatred and pain, and he lashed out verbally. "¡Ah! ¡Mierda! ¡Joder! me duele! Eres un cabrón hijo de puta, te mataré por esto! ¡Maldita sea!"

His emerald eyes held those of the Englishman unwaveringly this time. He was bleeding heavily. It was lucky the arteries hadn't been hit by such a reckless move. He wouldn't die, but he and his people would suffer. He suddenly leaned forward, pressing against the blade. It broke skin as he continued. "I will find a way to destroy you Inglaterra. Maybe I can't kill you, pero voy a encontrar una manera de romper usted. Y usted no me rompe. Usted va a destruir mi cuerpo, pero se levantará como el ave fénix y quema cada vez más brillante."

"There are the idle threats," Arthur said his voice airy, mocking. He lowered the knife to kiss Anthony; he wanted to taste the blood, the hate, the helplessness. A hand gripped the prisoner's jaw to keep him from pulling away. It was the curses to his name that kept him fighting. The fear in the other's eyes knowing he was powerful. It was the threats from people like Spain here, which fueled his violent nature.

He pulled away licking the blood off his lips as he stood. He grabbed the chains that held his captive and pulled him up before shoving him into the wall of his ship. Arthur drove the dagger in the middle of one of the links. Quickly he turned and grabbed a second knife repeating the procedure. Sure that would hold for now, he turned his attention back to the man in the irons. He pressed two fingers around the wound, "hm… we don't wish you bleeding to death. You should be more careful," he said headed to the pile of fabric that once was his bedding. Finding a suitable piece he walked back over. Arthur wouldn't admit it but he just enjoyed the simple sight of his enemies at his mercy. He didn't have to do anything, just wanted to remind them he was superior.

Antonio struggled violently as he was pulled into the kiss, his curses and insults swallowed by the others lips. He attempted to bite, to inflict pain, but the hand at his jaw held his mouth slightly ajar. That Diablo could kiss however he wanted and the Spaniard could do nothing to stop him.

"Te voy a matar por esto! Yo Te mataré! Voy a meter un hierro candente hasta por tu culo que la gente pueda ver cuando abren la boca de tu cadáver! Usted se quemará en el infierno por toda la eternidad!" He continued, incensed by this treatment. His lips were smeared with his own blood from when the Englishman kissed him, staining them a darker red. He wore an expression of disgust and loathing.

He was hauled to his feet and he cried out when he attempted to stand on his own, his knees buckling below him. It was not a problem for long... He was shoved into a wall, knocking the breath from his body. He struggled when the first knife was placed, trying to pry it loose. But sagged in pain, the instant el bastardo moved away. He was one part relieved that the other side was also pinned to the wall, and several parts pissed for various reasons. One being, He was SPAIN! El conquistador de el Mundo Nuevo. Another thing was that he was supposed to be Macho. A man. Not a weakling and easy prey. He would fight.

To his surprise, the capitano Diablo seemed to act human... He watched in confusion as Arturo bandaged the wound that he had inflicted. And had the audacity to claim the injury was Antonio's fault. He tried to lunge forward and bite him. Since his arms were pretty much useless chained together... and he was held to the wall by said chains... At least he didn't have a collar like a dog. Or a brand like a steer.

[I'll kill you for this! I will fucking kill you! I will shove a red-hot poker up your ass so far they'll be able to see it when they open the mouth of your corpse! Do you hear me you lowlife pirate scum? You will burn in hell for eternity!]

With care he bandaged the wound, then watched as the fabric was quickly soaked. Well it would do. There was no other use for the fabric now anyway. Arthur glanced at his captive to find surprise in his eyes. As if he didn't have a shred of humanity, hah, he knew how to treat people; his captive just didn't deserve it. Quickly though, the confusion disappeared and the Spaniard resumed snapping at him. He smirked and grabbed his jaw again. The pirate leaned close licking the blood off his captive's lips.

"You may stop with the flattery anytime," Arthur replied patting his captive on the cheek, "I will fuck you again, I merely assumed you would need to rest." His face remained inches away from Anthony's smirking, taunting him. The pirate wouldn't leave any marks on the surface that wouldn't heal. There was no reason to mark this captive as own. Hell, he wouldn't claim this captive if anyone asked, now if someone offered to pay… still any lasting marks would cut down on the pay.

He tried to bite the Englishman's tongue, but he drew away at the last minute. Oh how he wanted to get his revenge. His eyes burned with anger. Of course el Diablo would think they were compliments. He gritted his teeth hard enough to make his jaw creak. The care la Pirata had shown was false of course, and that pat on his cheek stung. He had been punched and slapped after all.

"Francisco, al menos, sabe cómo dar placer, así como el placer. Por supuesto, un pirata humilde Inglés nunca podría ser tan bueno como un francés..." He smirked. England may have fucked him, but he had felt nothing but pain. And he was NOT a masochist. Of course, it was probably a bad idea to mention Francis to the Englishman... Considering their rocky history together...

Arthur didn't know if he wanted to punch Anthony until he lost consciousness or prove his comment wrong. His hand found Spain's throat squeezing as he scowled. His mind debated with a course of action. Because right now cutting out that cursed tongue sounded pretty good, a man could still scream without one. Then again he didn't wish to damage this property too much.

"We should do something about these insults passing your lips, though I am sure that is the only thing Francis can do," he growled needing another dagger. He was glad he had many hidden about his room, and that in the mad attack on his room the Spaniard hadn't found any. With a low petty punch he left his prisoner to pull out another one of those. Sometimes paranoia paid off.

England sighed testing the blade walking back over. "Open," he commanded, "I decided you want the blade, you'll get the blade," he snarled.

He choked and wheezed as his throat was constricted, struggling weakly. He felt his eye start to grow heavy, but the Englishman pulled away before he could pass out. He took in deep breaths of air greedily. Since his throat was dry from his screaming only a little while ago, he began to cough harshly. It cleared up pretty quickly though and he looked up. Just in time to receive a punch...

He groaned weakly and slumped in the chains. His head was still spinning from the lack of oxygen and the punch had knocked the air from his lungs yet again. He panted shallowly this time to keep from coughing again as he watched Arturo look for something.

A vein pulsed in his temple as the Pirata pulled out... yet ANOTHER stupid knife. Where he kept those things, he didn't know. But that guy was seriously twisted. He snarled silently at him. The blade had already cut him, and the threat of it being used as a device to rape him with could easily keep him in line... But he would not bow down so easily and let the Englishman do what he wanted. He may be clothed in rags, but he was still a conquistador. He still had his pride.

"I said open not snarl," The pirate replied still thoroughly pissed at the earlier comment. His free hand grabbed his captive's flaccid organ. He wondered how much Spain would hate himself for coming from his touch. He stroked it idly waiting for Spain to open his mouth as ordered.

It wasn't that he hated the nation chained to the wall; he just didn't like him very much. He didn't like the bragging rights Spain claimed. The only thing he really found the nation useful for up until this point was their ships of gold. It saved him the trouble of having to get the gold from the natives himself.

"You were so eager for it before," he taunted resting the blade against the cut from earlier, "is it because it's the wrong blade?" Arthur asked his tone continuing to mock. His mood was improving remembering that the Spaniard was at his mercy. Words were the only thing that he could use to try to hurt him. No reaction meant the captive failed, so Arthur reminded himself to remain calm. Even if more comments about France were thrown about.

Spain opened his mouth to fire off another retort, but the sudden touch caused him to let out a very ... poco masculino... squeak of alarm. He gaped at the Englishman before him in astonishment, unable to think of anything he could say. He hadn't expected the pirata to think of it as a challenge. His jaw clicked shut. In hindsight, he probably should have...

He promised himself that he wouldn't enjoy this. He couldn't... La Pirata diablo... Was his enemy. He stole and sank ships and captured him and held him for ransom and... If Antonio let himself enjoy this... Not after the beatings... The torture... The Rape...

"Por supuesto que no lo quieren... Quiero que me dejen solo y mis barcos..." He said quietly, the movement of his lips against the blade deepening the cut. He felt tears gather. He hadn't even been able to fight back against him... And it had hurt so much... He was a failure... He hung his head with shame... He was useless...

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Arthur whispered poking the tip of the blade against his captive's tongue. "Your ships have the gold I want," he smirked seeing defeat enter the Spaniard's eyes. Finally. It was not as satisfying as beating France to a pulp, but it was gratifying.

"Tu Eligió a su pequeño. Yo escogí el mío. No es mi culpa suya era sólo lleno de grano de oro y no el metal precioso," he sneered, defiant even whilst supposedly broken. He clenched his jaw and twisted his head, hiding the flinch that the sudden movement caused. He didn't want to be touched by that pirata bastarda. And the psicópata was certainly obsessed with seeing his blood and shedding it.

[You chose your little one. I chose mine. It is not my fault yours was only full of golden grain and not that precious metal.]

He put away the dagger seeing no reason to continue beating a nation that was broken. Though, the challenge still stood. And he'd be damned if he just let that drop. Arthur's hand continued to stroke before wrapping his hand around it. He watched his prisoner's face also admiring the wound he knew would scar over. Perhaps it would remain with him, a reminder of what he lost when he crossed this pirate. "Until you run out of gold Anthony I will continue to come back," he threatened his free hand moving to smear the blood.

"..." He glared, his lips twitching. He wanted to hurt the Englishman with every fiber of his being. Wanted to wring his scrawny neck. Wanted him to- "¡dios mío!" Antonio threw his head back, slamming it into the wall behind him with an audible CRACK in an attempt to quell the feelings rising in his body. He made a tiny sound somewhere between a cry and a moan, but choked back to make them unrecognizable... He wouldn't submit...

Arthur smirked, "That's why I just take yours Anthony, and it's easy enough." He snickered seeing the reaction he was getting. There was no way he was going to stop now; it would be rude of him. His second hand lowered to free himself after all last time had felt so nice. His hand slowed its pace playing with the tip of his captive's erection. "That's not going to help," he whispered lowering his head indicating the attempt to hide his arousal.

Antonio snarled as the Englishman laughed at him, but it was cut off as he moaned at the pleasant sensations. He couldn't help himself... It felt so good... He shuddered weakly, unused to such attentions on himself. He was not a virgin by any means, but he had never slept with another man... Not before ... that happened... He looked at la Pirata, his eyes dilated almost to the point of complete blackness and followed his gaze. His own body had betrayed him... He watched with a strange sort of detachment as he caught sight of the thing that had taken his virginity away...

He breathed against Spain's neck not caring if lust or fear ran though the captive's body. Either one would be fine with him. "Might as well attempt to enjoy this time, unless you prefer it painful," he grinned before kissing the bite marks he left before. He pulled up one of the Spaniard's legs his hand leaving long enough to position himself.

He felt a warm breath ghost across his skin and shuddered, though he could not tell if it was fear, revulsion... or lust... that made him shiver. He hated Arthur... loathed him. And the words he spoke made Antonio shake with fear... and a twisted sort of anticipation... He felt a leg get lifted up and whimpered, looking at the man who had him pinned to the wall and helpless to do anything.

"You should still be stretched out enough for me," England said thrusting. His hand returned to Spain gripping him, moving in time with his own thrusts.

He shook his head fearfully as the Englishman spoke... Too late! He cried out as he was penetrated yet again, blood seeping from the reopened wounds. He struggled, bucking and thrashing despite the almost complete lack of mobility. But exhaustion, and the increasing feel of pleasure, slowly wore away his strength. And soon he was clenching his fists into the chains holding them and his legs wrapped tightly around the Englishman driving into him so deeply, crying from a mixture of shame and lust.

Arthur laughed as Anthony wrapped his legs around him, begging him for more. A million different insults filtered though his mind at the action. Instead he latched his mouth onto his prisoner's neck muffling any sounds he made. The pirate's tongue licked at the trapped flesh enjoying the taste of gunpowder and sweat.

He closed his eyes seeking his own pleasure taking pleasure in the feel of the writhing body trapped under him. Arthur tightened his hand giving Anthony pleasure determined to outlast his captive. It was hard though with the tight muscles clamping down around him, and Anthony's attempts at (successfully) dragging him deeper to more of that heat.

Antonio began to twitch slightly as Arthur latched onto him, winding tighter and tighter as he came closer to ... He jerked at the chains holding him up and moaned softly. His neck was so sensitive to the touch... His thoughts were fragmented, only feelings remained... And even though there was pain... there was pleasure as well... He threw his head back again, hitting the wall behind him violently yet again, as he cried out in pleasure.

"D-dios... mio... "His eyes were closed tightly, grimacing in unwanted pleasure. He moaned as the pressure from Arthur's hand increased around him and his muscles tightened in time with the slight twitches. He knew that he couldn't last much longer with the double stimulation, but he tried to hold it back as long as he could... His eyes shot open, that precious bundle of nerves finally touched upon as he yelled and cursed to the high heavens... But he still managed to hold himself together, trembling with the effort...

England smirked realizing he found the spot. He pulled back slightly now specifically aiming for the pleasure spot. His mouth removed it's self from Anthony's neck only to latch on again biting hard. Arthur refused to lose himself to pleasure before his captive, and this was the only way he could find to keep himself quiet.

He yelled louder, unable to form coherent words now, let alone speak... His whole body shook with the effort of keeping himself from release. He wanted to end the pleasure-pain, but he didn't want to lose. He whimpered softly as he was forced closer to the edge, each thrust bringing the end closer and closer...

It was frustrating feeling his prisoner so close yet to stubborn to just let go. "You don't want to be left in this state do you?" Arthur half growled, half panted into Anthony's ear. His hand squeezed in emphases. Arthur enjoyed the yells and curses, all praises to his ability he found. It was a matter of pride here, who could hold out longer. Already the pirate felt his body teetering the edge, his own movements more erratic.

At the growling breathes on his ear and slight squeezes on his arousal... Antonio couldn't take any more. He keened shrilly as he came, unable to take anymore. Whiteness blanked his vision as he was swept up in the ecstasy, while his body stiffened and clenched around the pirate, until it slowly ended... And he was left spent and sore from the intense battle of wills.

Arthur smirked hearing Antonio's yell, he knew he had won. Though quickly that thought was thrust from his mind as walls tightened around him dragging him along. Attempting to mute himself he buried his face into his captive's neck and chest. Arthur felt his whole body shudder, and quite frankly he felt very weak after that release. Once he was in more control of his movements England pulled back careful not to fall.

It was a relief to feel something solid hit the back of his legs and Arthur eagerly rested against it. He quickly tidied what he could of himself up and threw the now covered shirt onto the pile of rags in his room. Only then did the pirate look at Spain, not caring what state he left the other man in. The smirk returned to his face, "Now what were you saying about my abilities?" he asked amusement creeping into his voice. Anthony was a sight to behold after all, a mess of cuts and bruises, bites and semen.

Antonio hung limply from his chains. His hands slowly unclenched the chains he had gripped so tightly, and he heard the joints crack and pop. He looked at himself and his expression could only be described as... fallen... his fingers had gripped so tightly, he had at least partially dislocated at two and maybe more... He was cut and bruised... He was covered with blood and semen, and more was leaking from his abused entrance... He felt like crying.

"..." he didn't look up. His shamed silence was answer enough... He had done everything in his power to resist... Had metaphorically fought tooth and nail... And lost spectacularly...

* * *

Don't shoot me for the Spanish. Find Akuoni and attack her,

I will attempt to update later with translations if I ever figure them all out. ...? maybe?


	3. English cooking, Spanish Siestas

Warnings: Pirate!England, broken!Spain... attempted suicide (successful?), English cooking.

Note: This is a co-written story between myself and Akuoni

Don't like don't read.

Reviews are appreciated

* * *

Arthur returned to his cabin feeling rather accomplished. Demands had been sent for the return of Antonio. He was even willing to take a bit of a cut in the price for having goods damaged. Especially if they were not willing to submit to his demands. England smirked, Spain would buckle he had a good feeling about it.

Thinking of good feelings, since being in port the pirate had worked on restoring the state of his quarters. It had been rather interesting to watch the crew as he threw the rags of what had been his quarters out. Since then he had been careful about leaving his prisoner free to move about his cabin. The Spaniard was a handful, but he seemed to learn his lesson. It had been tempting to leave him there, pinned to the wall, covered the way he was. But Arthur liked to think of himself as a compassionate man so he let him down, allowed him to be dressed… most the time. Didn't want Spain thinking he could try to flee, people did that less often when they were not dressed.

Antonio was lying down underneath the heavy desk, curled up into a ball. He had tried to find where England kept all those knives, but he never could... And after weeks of trying to find a way to escape... he no longer jumped up when the door opened. He didn't even interact with anyone but el capitán pirata... He wasn't ever hungry anymore... And he felt dirty... He curled up tighter and shivered, hugging one of the new drapes-which he had pulled down to make a nest under the desk-round him like a blanket.

He knew that it was a stupid place to like, but he didn't care. He hadn't eaten in... how long? Three days now? He didn't care... He was tired... He just wanted to sleep. He would probably be punished cause he wasn't eating... But he wasn't hungry... So he didn't eat... and his stomach didn't growl so he knew it didn't mind being empty... He drifted into sleep. And was still asleep when the door opened...

Arthur hung up his coat and hat, careful with the garments as always. His eyes flicked to the window, his curtains were gone again. At least this time there was not a shredded pile of them waiting for him. The sword at his waist joined his coat, the gun removed as he went to his desk. The captain shook his head catching a glimpse of his drapes. Honestly, it was like Alfred hiding from ghosts, futile.

He sat and promptly dug one boot into the side, or was it back, of the huddled mass under his desk. "Get up," he ordered pointing the pistol at it, "And hang my drapery up while you are at it." Arthur had grown use to giving orders to this huddled mass. He kicked Antonio again though he should be referring to the mass as an it rather than the man he started with. "They are not your bedding," he continued watching with mild curiosity.

After this length of time it was to be expected that Anthony would be slower. And probably a bit stiff… a bit sleep deprived… but he seemed to be losing… more. Arthur glanced at the food he left, ah right, the man was making his last stand. Trying to starve himself rather than submit to England's food.

Antonio didn't wake as Arturo searched the cabin for him and the missing drapes. And the harsh treatment barely caused him to stir. He blinked slowly as he rose from the dark depths of sleep and crawled out from under the desk to stand, carrying the drapes as he did. A deep yawn escaped and he ran a hand through mussed hair as he swayed slightly. He just wanted to sleep...

"Si..." he said as his brain caught up with what Inglaterra demanded, his voice barely above a whisper. He stumbled slightly as he moved over to the windows and lethargically began to replace them. He glanced at the food, but he didn't even feel the slightest twinge of hunger... SO he simply returned his attention to the fabric. He turned to la pirata and looked at him blankly. He wondered idly what had brought him to such a good mood...

It didn't matter anymore. He realized that Inglaterra had noticed the untouched food and he shrugged."No tengo hambre..." he said, nodding his head slightly, though it was more a lazy bob. He blinked tiredly, trying to keep from falling asleep on his feet, but he ... He sank to his knees as his eyes closed. "Estoy... Tan cansado..." He murmured as he lay down on the ground and drifted off again...

Arthur's good mood left him watching Anthony. He opened his mouth to demand that Anthony eat but the man was already asleep again. It would not due if the man starved himself to death. Especially since the ransom and the continuation of the gold ships he wanted depended on this man living. Growling he stood placing the gun on the desk. Fine, he'd just force the lazy to eat. It wasn't like it was even his cooking! The crew had barred him from the galley anyway.

The pirate pulled his captive up by the hair, "I didn't say you could sleep again. How long has it been since you ate?" he asked pinning the weaker male against the wall. From his movements and Arthur's lack of him ever eating, it had to be a few days now. Antonio was bloody-minded on killing himself. First the attempts at blowing himself up, second mentioning Francis, third starving himself.

He grunted absently as he felt the pain of being hauled up by his hair, and again when he was slammed against the wall. ~How long?~ He blinked once slowly. He honestly had no idea... He looked up and furrowed his brows trying to remember, but the fact he had started sleeping all the time had thrown his internal clock off. He shrugged as well as he could, pinned as he was.

"No soy... tres dias?" he guessed, picking a random number. Three was a good number, though he couldn't quite recall why right now. He was so sleepy... Why was Arturo making him stay awake? He let his head come down to rest on one of the arms holding him up, blinking up at la pirata dazedly. He tried to stay awake, but each blink took longer and longer to open...

Arthur scowled, three days? He slapped Anthony trying to keep him awake. "You will eat, I do not care if you are hungry or not," he said dropping the man onto the floor. He took a glance at the food; feeding a captive like this was below him. It seemed to be the only way to get him to eat though. Something simple first… Arthur grabbed the water.

"Open," he commanded tilting Spain's head back, "Sorry it's not steel this time." This was like taking care of an invalid. Since the ransom had been sent already he couldn't just dump the body and say he was killed. The thought of the gold ships went though England's mind. That gold was the future prosperity of his country, and making this guy well so just kick his ass again was part of that future. Arthur sighed as he made sure Anthony was propped up properly, he'd first see if the man could even chew for himself.

Antonio didn't even flinch, though the slap was not gentle. Nor did he react to being dumped on the floor. However, he did manage to keep his eye open a little longer... He watched Arturo through the haze of exhaustion that constantly enveloped him nowadays. He supposed that going along with what he was told would let him get more sleep later, so he stood up weakly and leaned rather drunkenly on the wall with his back. He didn't stay vertical long, and soon slid to the ground and turning to his side. He leaned tiredly on the cabin wall, curled up with his hands on his knees. He felt a hand tilt his head back and the rim of a glass at his lips.

At the command, he parted his lips, letting the cool liquid soothe his dry throat. He had drank some during his impromptu fast, but not nearly enough... He reached up rather shakily and tried to drink faster, some spilling over the sides and onto himself in his sudden thirst for the liquid. He licked his lips, and brought the damp parts of the shirt up to capture some of the water that had soaked into the fabric. He sucked on the fabric greedily like a vampire draining his victim dry and only snapped out of it when there was no more moisture to be had. He wasn't nearly as hydrated as his body demanded, but his stomach felt uncomfortable. If he drank anymore he would be unable to eat from the fact his stomach had begun to shrink from disuse. "mas... por favor..."

He watched not surprised when Anthony grabbed the cup trying to drink more. He almost enjoyed the man scrambling trying to get more of the water he wasted in his urgency. Seemed his time of rebelling had ended. Arthur moved the up away running a hand though Anthony's now matted hair, "Only if you eat something," he put the cup down and picked up the bread. Simple enough. And he could tear it into smaller pieces if Anthony refused to chew. England refused to feed Spain any other way…

Arthur held the roll in front of his captive, "Eat this and you will receive more water," he said waiting for the nation to follow his orders again. The pirate's eyes darted to the tray to see what else he had left. Many of the food left would be to hard seeing what state his captive had descended to. Well, mouth to mouth looked like the only option. Like a mother hen feeding her chicks, Arthur smirked. Look at what the price of pride had reduced Spain to.

Antonio's eyes lost focus slightly as he felt exhaustion weigh heavily on himself. The hand in his hair was soothing and he hummed slightly, nodding at the request. He watches as England took the bread. Real bread too, not the blackened monstrosities that poisoned anyone who attempted to eat them... He felt kind of bad for wasting the food, but he still didn't want to eat.

He took the roll in both hands, watching them tremble from the effort to stay up. He looked at England and then back at the roll. He sighed dejectedly and bit into it. He chewed without hunger or urgency, treating it as if it were a chore that regrettably had to be done. Once he finished, he brushed all the crumbs that had fallen into his into one of many scraps of cloth he had squirreled away and folded it up. He looked at England blankly, silently speaking. He had done what he was told. "May I go to sleep now..?" he asked, already drifting off.

Spain had lost so much strength… England watched in slight amazement at the effort it took to eat. No wonder he was so tired, it took all his energy to do something so simple. If the ransom was here now Arthur would glad toss the starving man back and let them work on the nurturing. Unfortunately that was not the case… Arthur hated having to show so much compassion to an enemy nation. It made him seem weak. He took the folded rag from Anthony sighing.

Arthur shook his head grabbing the little cheese he left on the plate, "This as well. Then you may sleep until I return," he said knowing Anthony would need more to eat. He was surprised that he hadn't noticed sooner the forgotten food. Oh well, he'd have to hold off on any fun he wished to have until his captive could put up a fight again. The pirate broke off a piece of the cheese. It was hard, that wasn't his fault to bad for Spain.

"You will eat every meal I give you, if you are hungry or not," Arthur informed the tired nation. He didn't say anything else knowing his captive understood he'd be forced the food if he didn't eat it on his own. Whatever salvageable pride he had left would probably prevent that, so he'd eat, and give another victory to the pirate.

Antonio gave him a blank look, and then glanced at the chunk of cheese Arturo held out to him. His lips twisted slightly, and the mostly healed cut leaked blood from that movement. He picked up the cheese and looked at him, itching to throw it in his face. He wanted to sleep, not eat. And his stomach felt weird having food in it after all this time. He frowned and looked at the innocent piece of dairy. He frowned some more and began breaking it apart.

"Not hungry," he repeated in English, the first time he had used it since he had seen la pirata diablo. But despite his words, he put the smaller pieces in his mouth and ate. He didn't say anything else when the pirate told him to eat. He simply hummed and finished the cheese. He licked his fingers absently and wiped them off on another scrap of fabric. It had been one of the drapes he had torn apart on that first day, just as the other had been. He sat up straight and lay back down, curling up with his back to the Englishman. He closed his eyes and spoke softly.

"I ate. Now let me sleep..."

Arthur grabbed the other man's chin forcing him to look back at him. "Do not presume to start giving me orders Anthony," he snarled seeing how tired the other was. It was truly amazing that the other managed to stay awake at all. He let go and stood. "Rest well because I will be back in an hour, and you will be awake then," Arthur said resisting the urge to kick the fallen man. The only reason to go after Spain was because he was strong. To bring him down was a testament to his own strength, to kick him while down…

He glared at the probably already asleep nation. England promised himself he would never let himself become like that. A push over. Depending on another so desperately to live. Annoyed again the pirate turned on his heel and left the cabin. They would be casting off soon; he needed something else to do. Something, anything besides nurse one of his enemies back to health.

Antonio was already half asleep by the time Arturo grabbed his chin, but he was aware enough to hear what was said. He blinked once, slow as molasses, and grunted. An hour wasn't enough time, but he was glad to have any time at all... He let himself drift off. Dreaming of soft Mediterranean breezes and warm sunlight and delicious tomatoes... And a beloved subordinate who acted so silly. While he slept, his body curled up. Defensive. His arms were wrapped around himself and his knees were at his chest, his head tilted down to touch them...

* * *

It hadn't been an hour, Arthur didn't care. The ship would be ready to make sail soon and he had to take care of this inconvenience first. He set down the food he brought and water on his desk. Well, the good thing about this state was he didn't have to worry about his stuff being torn up. Just now Arthur realized he left the loaded gun on his desk.

A heel of a boot collided with Anthony's back, "wake up," Arthur said his voice gruff. This was not out of the kindness of his heart that he was doing this. And his captive better bloody well know that. The same boot nudged again attempting to said captive back. He couldn't help but feel a bit proud knowing that this nation cringed even in his sleep, there was no escape. "You have to eat again, if you eat it all I might let you sleep for longer," Arthur said knowing that would get compliance if nothing else. In the back of his mind though a thought floated, what sounds would Anthony make in this state? Would he still scream when hurt, or would he just fall asleep?

Antonio made a soft sound of pain, waking slowly and with much more effort than he really wanted to put forth. He opened his eye and glared balefully at him before closing it and sitting up slowly. He yawned and stretched, the joints in his back and shoulders popping loudly. Once they stopped popping, he slumped down, barely sitting upright. More food...

"..." He opened his mouth to say something, but instead sighed. He stood up, still shaky, and made his way to the desk where the food sat. He grimaced at the amount on the plate, and winced as the action tore his cut again... He lifted up a piece of bread and looked at la pirata... He suddenly swayed violently and fell against the desk, his fingers latching to the sides to steady himself while the bread fell to the floor. He had lost color from being in the cabin rather than on desk, but he paled further in fear. He wasn't sure what el diablo would do, but he would be angry at the accidental waste of food...

Arthur stood back watching. He didn't lift a finger to help or to stop. Instead his view turned back to where the captive had slept, making sure there was nothing wrong with the spot, such as blood or attempts at tearing up his curtains again. He raised an unconcerned brow hearing a thud. "Do not waste the food," he said his voice dead calm picking up the discarded bread. Still with the same eerie calm as before a storm he placed the bread back on the plate.

HIs body trembled, the shivers rolling through him like waves weaker then stronger then back again, as he clutched at the table desperate to stay upright. He made a strange sound, almost a whimper as he felt his legs trying to buckle. His head hung down, the effort to hold it up too much. He Hated to feel so weak, but he couldn't even stay awake without help... his eyes closed, and his fingers tightened again as he nearly fell over.

"How does it feel being so weak in the face of your enemy? That you depend on me to even live? You are no longer a challenge to me," England whispered pulling Spain back from the desk. Quickly he spun the man around and forced him to sit. He picked up the plate looking down at Anthony sure the man was going to fall asleep on him again. The pirate knew he'd just continue to wake him, becoming annoyed in the process. Moving with care he placed the bread back into his captive's hands, "Drop it again and I will be feeding it to you."

He jumped at a touch, but sagged against it as the other spoke. He sat down heavily on the chair, leaning against the back and letting his head loll. He managed to keep his eyes open, watching Inglaterra move and carry the plate. He shifted to sit up properly and took the roll. He bit into it and suddenly he was starved. He ate it rapidly, catching the crumbs as they fell and sweeping them into his mouth between bites. He was so hungry he'd even be willing to eat Arturo's cooking! The bread was gone far too soon and he eyed the plate, licking his lips like a hungry dog eyes a bone.

"I see we are hungry now," Arthur said handing him the next item on the plate. He remembered the incident with the water and he was not willing to waste food. It was only more bread and cheese anyway. The fruit and dried meat was saved for his crew, again he wasn't willing to waste food. Cheese spoiled far too quickly so it was feed it to the Spaniard or let it go to the sea.

England set the plate down picking up the water his mind going back to the times with his young colony. Alfred ate with the same enthusiasm, even said his cooking was delicious. Arthur pushed the thought aside reminding himself that the child wasn't here. Anthony did not deserve the same compassion, he did this. He weakened himself to this state. "Don't waste the water," Arthur said his voice less harsh than he wished. He needed to get out of this room, before he forgot what Spain was capable of.

Antonio grunted as he finished off the rest of what he was handed. He eyed the plate, wishing there was more. He didn't understand it... He had been losing his appetite gradually for weeks. And now he was suddenly hungry. He sighed. He hadn't even thought of home... Only dreamt... and even those were starting to blur. It had only been a short while... a couple months at the most... But it felt like an eternity...

"..." He held out his hands for the water, carefully taking it. He didn't want to drop it like he had dropped the bread. He closed his eyes for a moment before lifting the cup to his lips. He drank as quickly as he could without spilling- which was actually pretty fast. And soon had the cup drained dry. He smiled absently, the feeling of fullness comfortable this time. Now if only his captor was actually someone he liked... Like Prusia or Francia... Or little Romano... The smile faded into a look of worry. Romano had expected him back by now... What if Ottoman Empire tried to capture him again? His worried look turned pained. Romano would never forgive him if he got captured by that guy while waiting for Spain's return... He needed to get out of here.

"Finish the plate," Arthur said handing the plate over to the captured man. Being so kind to the man was killing him. And Anthony wasn't helping not resisting every step of the way. He refilled the cup with a pitcher sitting nearby and set the cup within Spain's reach. "After that you may sleep again. We are setting sail again, there is suppose to be a good shipment headed back to Europe," he said smiling and picking up the pistol. "You will be locked in the brig before we find them. Don't worry I plan to keep you safe from harm," the pirate chuckled. He hoped to as well during this time find the ship carrying the ransom for Anthony. Leave no survivors, and see receive the ransom. He wouldn't go back on his word to return the Spaniard; it would just be on good grace from England. The country of Spain would just owe them for that safe return.

Antonio didn't need any prodding, grabbing the plate and wolfing down the food as fast as he could. He paused though, eyes widening in shock. The next shipment hadn't been scheduled... not for six months after he was supposed to have gotten home... His hands trembled and the food fell back onto the plate. He was glad he had put the plate on his lap rather than held it.

"¿Ya? Pero ... ¿cómo? El envío ... No iba a ser enviada por otros cinco meses!" He wailed. He couldn't have been there that long... could he? He began to fret, worried about what would come. Oh his leader would be so angry with him... Things were not going well at home and the gold was needed to make things well again. But if Inglaterra continued to take it... Things would stay bad...

Arthur hid a smile behind his hand. Five months? Well that was useful information to keep an eye out for. Usually it was down to the wire predicting when Spain sent out his gold. Well, now that he knew saved him a lot of trouble, though it was best Anthony didn't know. Else when he returned home… no it would be too late by then. "Stop flattering yourself, it is French. Not as great of find as your gold, but useful to calm an anxious crew," he said before motioning to the food. It wouldn't do either of them well if his captive started starving himself again.

The pirate dressed himself to face his crew. It was time they set sail. "Though time does fly when you are having fun, does it not Anthony?" he asked smirking over at the panicked nation. He set his hat atop his head still amused. "Oh and you never answered my earlier question, I'll give you a bit more time to think about it. But how does it feel knowing your life rests so heavily on my decisions?"

Antonio breathed a sigh of relief. ¡Gracias a Dios! At least his ships had a reprieve and some of the lesser shipments might be able to slip by... And the colony Arturo had would rebel against him... There was no way La Pirata would miss his gold... He growled half-heartedly as he returned to his meal. He had another plan... But he had to be careful...

Antonio watched as he dressed, green eyes glittering as he made his plans... He scowled at the appropriate places, hating the way the other acted. There was nothing FUN about being raped, held hostage, or psychologically attacked... And as for having his life in the other's hands... He eyed the almost empty plate. If he broke it he could use the jagged edges... He shrugged and decided to finish everything before he put his plan in motion...

Arthur chuckled; it was funny how a little food changed someone. Letting Anthony have free movement right now he headed out. Of course he had men to watch the door, but honestly how much damage was his captive willing to do right now? He rebelled in any way he would give the pirate a reason to hurt him again. Not that Arthur would mind in the least bit. He shouted out orders as the ship slowly left the harbor.

"The captive should be moved below, fetch him in a few minutes to do so," he ordered taking the helm. That would give more than enough time for Spain to try to save himself any farther humiliation.

Antonio grinned. This was even better. Once he was sure the Pirate was gone, he smashed the empty plate against the desk, shattering it like the heavy clay it was. The grin turned devious as he searched the shards for ... Ah~...

Right there was the perfect one. Now... What to do with it was the question... It was only useful as a weapon for stabbing... The jagged edge was more like a file... He paced for a moment before the thought came to him. He snuggled into his spot under the desk... Inhaled deeply. He was steeling himself for this... If he failed... he would be punished. But if he completed what he had planned... He would be committing a sin... Murder of the self... Suicide...

It wasn't long before the pirate Arthur had ordered to fetch their captive headed to his captain's room. The crew had wondered why the man had been left in this room for so long. Obviously he was the enemy; abet an important one, but the enemy none the less. Dangling the chains in one hand the pirate looked about the room wondering where the captive was. It wasn't like the room was that huge…

That was when he spotted the blood near the desk. He took another step forward before he realized it was fresh… oh no… his captain was going to kill him. The pirate dropped the chains and ran out to inform Captain Arthur. Their captive was dying.

Needless to say Arthur was not pleased to hear this. And was even less pleased to hear the pirate had just left letting the man to try to finish the job. Growling he headed down his quarters, of course not after admitting the appropriate punishment for such a cowardly act. Once inside he didn't bother to put up his things properly, sadly he had to save Spain- again.

Rather angry at this point of Anthony's stupidity Arthur reached under the desk grabbing whatever his hand came in contact first. Sadly for the suicidal man, and the one grabbing him that meant his bleeding arm. Arthur pulled him out and ungracefully deposited him in the middle of the floor. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

Antonio gasped in pain as his bloody arm was gripped harshly. But that wasn't the worst of the pain he realized as he was dragged out, a shrill cry of pain escaping his lips. He was still conscious, though only barely, which was good for the pirate. But that was bad for him... He had expected to be passed out by now. He had wanted to be found too late. Not at the border of life and death...

He sank to the ground as he was released, though his focus never left Arturo's face. His dull green eyes were half-lidded. The look he gave the man could be considered coquettish... had he not been dying. He grinned softly, a shadow of his usual one. Mocking him with the answer. His eyes flickered to the jacket he was still wearing, and wavered, confusion colouring it...

"'Stoy m'riendo..." he said quietly, "no más de oro para el pirata a tomar..." He closed his eyes tiredly, though they opened again. Letting his head loll to a more comfortable position, he simply gazed at the place his head had chosen blankly. He smiled oddly as he saw the holes where the chains had been stuck to the wall. Of course he would have to look there. The first sin committed in this room... and he was going to commit the second...

...Suicide...

* * *

Review? pwease?


	4. Silver moon, ruby blood

Alright warnings- rp style. Co written, unedited, things of a sexual nature. Oh Pirate England.

These characters are not owned by me or my co-writer! WE DO NOT OWN HETALIA.

Mkay, that's done. Enjoy.

* * *

England was pissed, to say the least. This was the tiring to continue rescuing Spain from death. And it was annoying that thanks to Anthony he kept loosing the curtains in his quarters. England grabbed the curtain quickly ripping it. He used the fabric to staunch the bleeding. It was hard for their kind to die easily, despite his captive's eagerness for the embrace of death. "You really wish to surrender your precious little pet to me?" Arthur hissed watching as the makeshift bandages became soaked. He continued to wrap though making sure to elevate to slow the bleeding.

It was strange to now try to inspire the man he wanted to break to live. Arthur wanted him to beg him, to fear him, to wish for death. Yet, the idiot had decided to actually… he shook his head. Well he wouldn't let Spain die. Now once he was awake enough he would wish he hadn't failed in his attempt. This was not what England had wanted to do, and he would make sure to punish his captive accordingly, but there was no way he was going to let death take Anthony away.

Spain hummed nonsensically. At least he was better than the Ottoman Empire... Though that was no great relief... He felt his arms get lifted and blinked, turning his head slightly to glance at what was being used. A grin spread across his face. He couldn't help the faint giggle that bubbled up, but the energy was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

He felt tired, and despite the warmth of the cabin, he began to shiver with cold. It seemed that Time was one thing the Spaniard was quickly running out of. He looked at Inglaterra and winked. A soft, cheerful smile on his lips. It was not one of his violent ones. It was friendly, one he gave the other two when they performed a prank or got someone to commit to a dare. It drifted away as he fell towards sleep. Exhaustion settling over him like a mantle of the finest furs.

Arthur sighed wanting to strangle Anthony at this moment, or just let him die. Honestly nursing one's enemy back to health was killing him. He could no longer see the blood through the bandages but England was sure it was only a matter of time before it soaked though. There was nothing else he could do though, stop the bleeding, get food in him… he looked back at Spain's face to realize he was asleep. Suddenly panicked England leaned down to make sure he felt breathing, well if the bastard died he'd just bloody drop him over board and say he killed himself. He'd take the gold and deal with the problems later.

Feeling faint breathing, Arthur relaxed slightly. He still had to keep the limbs elevated and try not to damage them more. Not until they had enough time to heal over enough at least. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and finished taking care of his now unconscious captive always thinking that he had finally passed on. England found the clay shard left from the plate, after this stunt (if Spain actually lived), the idiot was spending the rest of this trip chained with his hands away from each other, to the wall, having someone feed him every day. Just like the invalid he was.

Antonio woke. Unfortunately it was not a pleasant awakening. His whole body hurt, especially his wrists, and he was so thirsty his throat BURNED for moisture. And he felt starved. Though for what, he didn't know... He felt something heavy draped over him and weighing down his bandaged arms. From the faint light of the moonbeams striking them, he could see blackness against the white. Blood. His lifeblood. He turned his head slowly and tensed. On his arms was another. And from the weight on his stomach, he guessed the location of the other arm... He blanched as he realized that the weird feeling on his legs were those of the other person tangled with his. But who? This was an intimate position... One lovers would take.

He swallowed and turned his head. hoping and dreading to discover the face he would see.

Arthur had never meant to end up in such an intimate position with his prisoner. To know that he had pulled another to him like this in his sleep would for sure make the usually confident pirate blank. As it were though he was holding Spain to himself, his breathe playing lightly against Spain's shoulder blade. The slight movement had England attempting to shift closer; to say he was tired was an understatement. Piracy did not conduct its self.

"Stop moving you bloody git," he mumbled in his sleep. He would be mortified to know the event currently unfolding. But at least it answered the question if Anthony was going to pull through. Sadly it also would give Arthur another reason, as if he needed one, to hurt the captive for… well everything. He didn't like to worry, he didn't like to take care of stupid nations who attempt to kill themselves, and certainly he did not like to curl up to them.

Antonio immediately stilled with a faint whimper. He knew that voice... It had been all he had heard for a long time now... He gulped, swallowing what little spit remained in his dry mouth, and hoped that he had been allowed to wear something as he slept. However, as the Pirated pulled him closer, he soon realized that the two of them were as bare as a newborn babe. The only difference being the fact he had the thick bandages around his wrists.

They kept the blood in his malnourished body and acted like cuffs by being tied together in the end. He sighed. As weak as he was, he could do nothing. He doubted that he would even have the strength to stand. Probably the only thing he would be useful for would be the ransom and... THAT... He shivered and another whimper ghosted past his lips. He didn't want that again. He didn't want to be held so intimately by this person... By this Diablo... But... He couldn't escape... And this actually felt rather nice... Eventually he relaxed, falling back into the realm of somnus...

Arthur groaned blinking his eyes open. He promptly shut them again too tired to move, he had only fallen into bed a short while ago… and there was warmth… wait. This warmth was moving… Arthur's eyes shot open, why was he holding Anthony? He groaned again but this time for a different reason, did Spain have to wiggle like that? "You're up," he growled though he did not mean to, it was Spain's fault for moving! He was now fully awake- in every sense of the word.

He nipped at Anthony's shoulder careful not to draw more blood from his prisoner. Anything he did right now would have to involve keeping blood inside the body. Arthur shifted his hips; well he supposed one gentle round wouldn't kill him. Hell, skipping this round after Spain's treatment would kill Arthur.

Spain was in a nice dream... He and everyone were kids again and everyone was happy and having fun. And he and Little South were playing and having fun. They were wrestling like he had seen in Roma Antiqua's house and he was winning. Lovi had such a cute expression on his face~

Then Lovi spoke, his voice wasn't his own... "You're up" Antonio blinked and laughed airily, still dreaming of his homeland. But it was shattered by a sharp pain that drew him back. Pain slammed down on him and he hissed in reaction. His wrists hurt and his body still demanded sustenance and drink. And he could still feel his jailor wrapped around hi- Oh Dios mio... He whimpered as he recognized the hardness pressing against him from behind... ~Anything but that...~

Arthur darkly chuckled, "Don't give me that, I believe you rather enjoyed it last time," he whispered shifting his arm that was over his captive lower. "You hate me that much for not letting you go down with your ship?" he asked his hand caressing, petting, light and fleeting. Arthur placed a kiss at the spot his just bit, "Or is it that you want to forever make the seas mine?"

He shifted against Anthony again enjoying the whimpering, the fear shaking though his body. The anger from before, the same anger he had been keeping pent up, eased a little bit as he drew amusement at Spain's state. Arthur moved back to roll his captive onto his back, he smirked moving above him. Quickly his mouth latched to the other's, wanting to taste the fear the other had for what was going to come. He would never get enough of this.

Antonio remained mute at the questions. He didn't want to answer them, and besides... the touches, caresses, were distracting... He squirmed slightly in discomfort. He was sore and tired and thirsty. And he really did not want this... But he was a prisoner. He had no choice really... The choice was all in the hands of that English bastard...

He tensed and stilled as the other moved against him, wanting to scramble away... But with his hands bound together, he was practically helpless. He almost sighed in relief as the other moved away. And was glad he didn't when He was suddenly rolled onto his back and found the man hovering over him like a cruel parody of a guardian angel. The faint light of the moon cast a halo in the blonde hair, turning it a silvery gold in the process. however, the expression underneath was anything but saintly. He gasped and cried out into the Pirata's mouth as his lips were captured in another kiss and he kicked out desperately. Unfortunately, even if he did manage to land a hit... it would be practically useless. He was underfed, weak from his attempt, and still drowsy from sleep.

Arthur pulled back from the kiss dragging his teeth over Anthony's lower lip. "You shouldn't fight it so much, I might not be as kind as last time," he threatened, moving his hands to pin down the legs threatening to hurt him. His head lowered to nuzzle his captive's neck, the pirate continued talking as if he had been answered, "Though your right, I shouldn't be that nice. You after all, seem to want more pain. Cutting yourself like that," his kiss was gentle as he tsked at Spain's failed attempt. His fingers worked into the muscle of the legs he held, his hands threatening to curl into fists. "You can't even kill yourself correctly you know that?" he whispered before lifting his head again for another harsh kiss.

His face twitched and he bit his lower lip desperately, hoping the silence would be answer enough. He didn't want to want this, but his body was betraying him with the reaction. _Stop him! think of something... Get free! But how can I..? When I am so weak..._ He itched to hurl a retort at Arthur, squirming in the grasp that held him down. Of course he was still alive. It was the pirate's fault the Spaniard had not died. But Antonio would not accuse him. Instead he glared with as much anger he could muster. Which... Wasn't as much as he used to... Instead it looked more like...He was pleading. He felt those strong digits working on the muscles and relaxed, despite his better judgement. He sighed remorsefully into the forced kiss, letting the other do what he wanted.

Arthur situated himself between Anthony's legs and raised one hand. "Would you care to provide? Or would you rather just have me take you?" he chuckled knowing the other's mouth was dry, Spain would be lucky to provide any sort of lubrication for himself. Arthur knew he'd punish his captive in the morning. After all it wouldn't be right to be so awarding like this to a man who just tried to kill himself, no he was considering this the _'congrats your still alive'_ gift.

His body went limp, no fight in it at all. He felt pain in the back of his eyes and blinked, recognizing it as tears trying to form. There wasn't even enough moisture to cry... One small mercy he supposed. Now that he had hit such a nadir, he didn't even have enough moisture in his body to properly cry... But there were other ways he realized. His breath hitched as he bit back a sob. His brows furrowed and he bit his lip harder, threatening to break the skin in his attempt to keep quiet. There was no way he would let Inglaterra see him cry...

"No need to thank me," Arthur said placing a hand on the Spaniards cheek. It was amusing how he was practically begging for more. The pirate doubted Anthony knew he was. He wouldn't point it out though, well not right now. He ran his thumb over his prisoner's lips, "You didn't answer my question Spain," he stated a slight edge placed in his voice as he moved to remove the bitten lip, "You going to open your mouth like a good whore or force me to make you bleed again?" he asked. England's free hand traveled down the naked and bound body below him. The body was so thin from malnutrition.

It would probably take awhile before he had Spain looking well enough to be handed over without anyone causing a fuss.

_Thank you? I would rather eat ground glass than thank you... _Antonio thought mutinously. But other than the smouldering fire in his gaze... he was as placid as still water. A muscle jumped in his cheek as Arturo pressed against his much abused lips with the digit. He whimpered as it brushed over a cut, whether a leftover from his attempts or a result of his bite didn't matter... It still left a dark mark on the thumb. _I am no whore..._ But, even as he completed the thought, his jaw muscles relaxed letting the other pull his mouth open with that slight pressure. He felt the other hand move down his body, exploring his now gaunt frame. He felt sick with self-loathing, but he acted like he didn't notice the touches. The only sign would be the faint prickle of skin that followed in the wake of such warm hands and in the rising of the fine hairs on the back of his neck- a sure sign of his anxiety...

Arthur slipped two fingers into Anthony's mouth. "You might want to try to suck now," he suggested shifting his hips forward. The pirate smirked, "Though you do enjoy bleeding so much, I'm not sure if it's fair of me to deny you your one pleasure." Though, Arthur had to remind himself that the point was to avoid making the Spaniard bleed more. It was a miracle that the other nation was really still alive. Then again… it took so much more to kill them. He kissed along the jaw presented to him, amused by the faint bruises that remained. It took so much more. One hand explored his captive's mouth the fingers brushing over Anthony's teeth, the other worked lower back to the sensitive skin around his captive's vital regions. He was being far gentler than he should have been. But welcoming one back from death's door warranted special treatment, even for a short while.

His tongue brushed against the fingers, but it was just as dry as they and bloodloss had ensured his mouth was as dry as cotton. His eyes were narrow- and his pupils dilated from darkness- making the emerald in his eyes seem to disappear completely into monochrome black and white. Other than the faint movement of his chest, eyes, and mouth, one would think he was dead. But he knew that the captain knew better. That he was just laying like this to show just how much power the other held over him. He sighed around the fingers still in his mouth, letting the anger melt away. It took to much effort to feel any emotion anyways... Stimulous however... That was a different story. His breath hitched in surprise -though he knew he should have expected that- as he felt the fingers touch the skin in such a private, and incredibly sensitive area. A soft whimper of fear was garbled by the intrusions in his mouth, but it was there all the same. Even if Arthur was being Gentle...

It was still not wanted...

Arthur withdrew his fingers raising a brow, "So you want it dry," he mused knowing why his prisoner failed to provide any sort of comfort for himself. As if Anthony had properly coated the fingers the pirate moved them down the other's body. His other hand shifted to lift the prisoner slightly so he could find his intended target. "You're not resisting," he teased whispering against Anthony's ear. Quickly, because where was the fun if he made everything pleasant for his captive, Arthur inserted two fingers into the hole once he found it. He smirked at the resistance he felt. The pirate couldn't help but chuckle as the body below him tried to force his fingers out as he moved them stretching the tight hole for something much bigger.

"N-no..." He croaked weakly, a protest that would probably go unheeded... He felt the other move, lifting his bottom half to get better access at his hole. And he trembled, awaiting and dreading the pain that would soon follow. He felt the fingers as they traveled down his body, dry skin against dry skin. If he could he would be sweating with fear. You're not resisting... Of course he wasn't... How could he? A choked cry of pain escaped as they were forced into his body. He heaved with dry sobs, pushing against England weakly, trying to get away. His muscles clenched the fingers within, an attempt to halt their progress and force them out. Useless of course, but he had to try. It hurt, but -despite the burning friction- there was no tearing and bleeding. It changed as the other brushed against something inside him, and he cried out... this time in surprised pleasure. His hands went from pushing away to clinging desperately... fighting against the feeling.

Arthur repeated the movement smirking. Spain clung to him begging for more, just like before. The pirate knew he was leaving a mark on the man below him. Whenever another lay down with this man now thoughts of him would come to mind. And that was the best scar he could leave. Slowly he curled his fingers against that spot that brought Anthony closer to him. He laughed at the reactions it brought before adding a third finger. There were no more teasing words from him, no more aloud mocking. Of course it didn't mean his taunting didn't continue, or that the smirk on his face disappeared.

No Spain knew where he belonged now, that England could have complete control over him. Arthur nipped at his captive's neck, he should leave another mark; the others had faded considerably. As roughly as he pushed the fingers in the pirate pulled them back out before spitting on his own palm, something to make sure he didn't tear open his captive again.

His fingers tightened on Inglaterra's shoulders' as el bastardo continued the assault on his body, digging into the soft flesh urgently. He would never tell him. Never let him find out what he had done. Never let him find out that Spain had been a virgin. He bit his tongue in an attempt to silence himself as the third was added, his face twisting with pain pleasure and despair. He felt a solitary tear manage to form and trickle down the side of his face. His eyes slid shut, unwilling to look at the male hovering over his body. The one who used his body like ... like he was a whore. He jerked and whimpered as he was bitten, but didn't move.

There was no choice for Espania after all. He was just an unwilling slave to England's desire. He gasped as the fingers left him so suddenly. And he felt even worse as he heard the sound of Arturo spitting on his hand. He bit even harder on his tongue to muffle the sounds of fear that leaked from his throat.

"Don't mute yourself," Arthur whispered against the abused spot on his captive's neck. Slowly he guided himself in. He moaned feeling the other's walls clamp eagerly around him. This round he would take his time, savor the emotions that flicked across Anthony's face. The pirate looked down placing a hand on his captive's cheek once more. Once sheathed fully he waited, wanted to see what Spain would do. What would he add to the beautiful sight below the English nation? What could be added the once proud and arrogant Spain broken and whimpering?

A silent sob shook his frame as the Englishman slowly entered his body, but he didn't speak. His face was twisted with mental anguish and physical pleasure. He didn't want to do this. He closed his eyes tightly and bit his own tongue harder. A soft whimper went free, but that was the only kind of sound he allowed himself. He felt his skin crawl as Inglaterra touched his cheek, but other than a slight grimace that revealed the position of his tongue to anyone trying to memorize what his face looked like, he showed nothing of great import.

Arthur waited for once allowing Anthony get use to him before moving. His hand moved, his thumb again rubbing his captive's lips. "Don't mute yourself," he repeated knowing he still was physically stronger, he could force the mouth open if need be. By why resort to that when he could simply coax it? His captive's face was too beautiful at the moment to ruin by forcing him to cry out. It was the face of a broken man, a broken nation. And it was all by his hands. The pirate smirked resting his forehead against Anthony's, slowly moving letting the other know that he was owned fully, and even once the ransom was paid he'd still belong to England.

Antonio didn't look at him. Couldn't look at him. Couldn't let him see the destruction he wrought on the Spaniard's mind. A childish mantra in his head kept him from falling deeper... My eyes are closed, so the pain isn't real. There was no pain now though... he could almost believe that It was someone who loved him... Not England... Not the one who just wanted to prove himself as the better. "Congratulations..." He said softly in his native tongue, finally opening his eyes to look at Arthuro once again. Haloed by the harsh, unfeeling light of the moon. His own face was not cast into shadow, but immersed in the glow. "You have taken from me one of my greatest treasures and destroyed it beyond repair ." A smile without joy or even any form of emotion spread across his face as he closed his eyes again... "One can have sexual relations for the first time, once, is that not true?"

Arthur didn't stop his movements; outwardly he didn't show any reaction to the Spaniards statement. Well besides a smirk and lowering his head to nip Anthony's jaw line. Internally though, he was mulling over what the other had said. Beyond the congratulations the Spanish was muddled to him. Of course he had taken things from Spain, destroyed far more that that… but the pirate felt his prisoner was talking about something else. 'One can only have sexual relations for the first time once, is that not true?' "True"


	5. Spanish Humiliation, English Games

Alright warnings- rp style. Co written, unedited, things of a sexual nature. Oh Pirate England.

These characters are not owned by me or my co-writer! WE DO NOT OWN HETALIA.

Mkay, that's done. Enjoy.

* * *

The morning had arrived far too quickly for Arthur. He was still tired from his little nightly adventure. And the pirate still blamed the other male for it. It wasn't like he had planned on waking in the middle of the night for a quick fuck. Despite his dreary outlook on the day,the sky not reflecting his feelings, England moved from the bed. He dressed quickly wanting to feel the spray of the ocean and get away from responsibility again, just for a little while. Thinking of responsibility, Arthur turned back to the bed those rough bandages had to be changed again.

Antonio slept on, covered by the residue from last night's activities. His youthful face was shadowed by uncharactoristic solemnity, a frown marring his usually serene expression. And why shouldn't it. He had been coerced into having sex yet again. And, despite his claim to the title of best lover, he had very little stamina right now due to his brush with death. Arturo had been relentless. It had not been as painful as usual, but it was still unwanted. Still rape. He shifted with a murmur as the warmth that had surrounded him disappeared, moving to cover more of the bed despite the binds holding his wrists together. His body had thinned quite noticeably, making him seem delgados y delicados. Rather than fuerte y masculino as he had been. He was unique among the Hispanics though for his complete and utter lack of an ability to gain facial hair. Which was incredibly annoying... but not at all an expense on shaving supplies.

Slowly, carefully Arthur started undoing the bandages uncaring about the state of the rest of the body right now. He'd have someone feed the prisoner later… though he should probably have Anthony cleaned up somewhat by then. Once the binding was off he inspected the wounds. Honestly this man was insane. "Just keep him alive long enough to trade him for the gold," he muttered to himself reaching for the fresh bindings. England paused and looked back at Spain, he should clean the blood around the wounds… he might not like the guy but again this was for what he wanted. The pirate doubted at this point his prisoner could be asked to do something so simple without snapping again and attempting another suicide. Leaving the one wrist open to the air Arthur stood and headed out of his room.

It would be wasteful to use drinking water on something like this. No he was sure they could find something else to clean up the sleeping man in his bed. The fact that Anthony was asleep was the only reason Arthur left him with the one wrist free anyway. If the man had been awake… well he obviously was going to have to return with something to make sure the captive didn't do anything else so stupid.

Antonio groaned as he came to wakefulness naturally. His eyes were still closed, but the change in his breathing- no longer soft and even- was hashed and chopped. Pain made his breath catch in his throat and he felt so cold... Shivers swept across his body as he slowly cracked his eyes open. His wrist hurt and he unthinkingly brought it to his mouth to soothe the pain. He ran his tongue over the raw cuts... and flinched as he tasted copper. He pulled his wrist away from his mouth and looked at it. He had been hasty and it showed in the ugly gashes that would have necessitated amputation had he been a mere human. As it were... His hand was useless until it healed... It was his right. "...Mierda..."

Arthur returned to his room a bucket of water in one hand, a rag hanging over the edge. The other an apple he was glad to eat. Looped loosely around his forearm were bandages meant for Anthony. The breeze was good today, the sky was bright, and they were making good time. The only thing that could dampen his spirits was lying in his bed. And unfortunately awake. "So desperate to die you've taken to eating your own flesh?" he asked having caught the Spaniard suck at his own wound. The spit from the pathetic man's mouth would probably actually be better than the water in the bucket. Oh well the pirate didn't care. Finishing the apple Arthur set the core on his desk and walked back over to the bed careful not to spill on his floors. It wasn't like it was full, he had just gotten enough to wash the wounds... with what ever they were using to scrub the decks. He didn't care to pay attention as long as the ship was kept clean and in perfect working order. The crew understood that.

Antonio's head turned as Arturo spoke, giving him a blank look. If it failed the first time, why bother to try again when he was just going to get punished... His stomach growled loudly as he smelled the scent of a fresh apple, but he acted like he didn't notice. Quite frankly he didn't care. His whole body ached and he was still tired. He looked at it again and held it up, attempting to ball it into a fist. Other than faint twitching, his fingers did not move. "..." His attention was on Arthur as he let the hand fall to his side. "I was... careless. I can't move my fingers..." He sighed and closed his eyes.

Arthur placed his hand under the forearm in question. Showing mild interest he curled each of Anthony's fingers individually. He didn't care if wounds reopened at the moment; he was going to clean them anyway and places bandages again. As long as he didn't let the idiot die. "Do you feel this?" he asked bending one of the fingers back, he wondered if he should just break it. "If not it might be better to just get rid of the hands. Make things much simpler for me," he continued his attention shifting to the wounds that would form into scars. More reminders for Spain. Another lesson for England to never let himself become this weak. Not saying a word he let go of the fingers and grabbed the rag from the bucket he dropped at the bedside. Using tenderness he didn't feel towards the other nation Arthur washed away the dried blood, or rather smeared the fresh blood that flowed from the events leading from removing the makeshift bandages from before.

His eyes flickered slightly at the feeling of pressure... But pain? There was no pain... Only a solid ache in his bones and wrists. He hummed noncommittally before shrugging his shoulders. He watched idly as England cleaned his wounds further. Er... attempted to anyways... But at least he tried. Spain sighed, annoyed with himself. And the world in general... "I feel ... but...Nothing. No pain..." He sighed, hating how pale he was now. His skin showing the loss of blood and lack of sun. He wanted to be home... He wanted to take siestas in the afternoon sun... He wanted to tease Lovinito... He wanted to have fun with Francia y Prusia... But... "Te odio..." he said softly. "Yo quiero ir a casa... Tú eres... inhuman..." He waited for the inevitable anger. Or something. But he didn't really care any more. He was a captive. There was nothing he could do...

England wrapped the wound glad to see very little red color soaking though it. He didn't want to have to deal with repeatedly applying new bandages because the old ones were to soaked. He let the arm rest again on the bed, one could only guess what the total damage was to the arm. His eyes flicked to Anthony's face at the final words. "I hardly think you are in a position to make such comments," he said his voice not holding it's usual menacing tone when speaking to the other. "What sort of creature gives up as you have? I am far more human than you" he said finding no joy in hurting the other if he didn't feel it. He stood grabbing the bucket and headed to the door. Arthur wanted something to challenge him again, someone to attempt to reach his power.

It felt nice to have him being so gentle. But that was because he had to be. Spain was fragile like a wounded bird. How ironic...Spain smiled wryly,imagining himself as a bird in a cage. He had captured birds to take home. Some of them had killed themselves rather than remain caged. Dashing themselves against the bars and breaking delicate bones. He smiled as Arturo questioned him mockingly. Though there was not heat in the other's voice like he expected. Things had changed between them. They had been stuck together too long maybe. He watched Arthur stand to leave and spoke softly in response. What animal would die rather than live a captive? "A bird does Amigo... a bird that was once free..."

"Then bird be happy another wished to buy you else I would let you follow your destructive path to it's end" Arthur replied picking up the apple core. He walked back to the bed and dropped the core on Anthony's stomach, "Your food, we'll see if we can spare more," he said before briskly turning on his heel and leaving. The sea was calling. His own freedom.

Antonio watched him leave. He closed his eyes, seeing himself as a bird whose feathers were once brightly plumed, but was now in a too small cage and had begun the path towards its final end... THe bird in his mind had broken its wings and its feathers were damaged and unkempt. He felt his heart reach out to the imagined bird and opened his eyes.

He picked up the apple core in the clumsy fingers of his left hand and gnawed halfheartedly on the remaining edible bits. Once he finished he lay down and curled up, his hands laying in front of him. He yawned and did what he had done... the only thing he COULD do to keep boredom at bay... Sleep.

Arthur didn't think about his captive at all during the rest of the day. Of course he had set up a schedule of crew men to check on the idiot, just to make sure there were no more attempts at suicide. But personally? Not once did the Spaniard cross his mind. It would be awhile still before the payment arrived, but he couldn't expect someone to come up with that kind of money and get it to him so quickly. Especially when there so many ways for that gold to get lost. It was night fall by the time he actually returned to his cabin. England completely ignored the other in the room as he moved about whistling to himself. He set a meal on the table in his room, pulled down a new map he had gotten while in down, and refilled the lantern. The ship was in the position he wanted, all that had to happen now was the waiting game. No big catches passed though today, no raids, just calm sailing.

Hopefully going off radar for awhile would draw more to them. Perhaps a French ship with furs from the new world. Or maybe that Spanish shipment though that was still months away.

Antonio had seen the Pirates peek in on him, but never responded to their queries. They did not interest him. They were simply English Pirates. Annoying English pirates that kept waking him up. He did not desire to talk to their leader, so why should he want to interact with his subordinates? Not that it stopped a couple from trying. Eventually he began making insulting hand gestures in response just to get them to understand that he wanted to be left alone. After that, they finally caught on and stopped talking to him.

He had finally slipped back into true sleep when Arthur came in, waking him up yet again... He sighed as he sat up and stretched, his bones cracking quietly as he twisted them into place. He looked at the Pirate with heavy-lidded eyes, watching his every move. He was curious to find where they were once he saw the map, but did not move over there. He hadn't seen the sun in the sky since he had been captured. It was only visible through the windows, a poor imitation of the experience. He wanted to feel the sea spray. He shifted and stood, moving to the window, and looked out. He was unaware he wore a forlorn expression as he lay a hand on the pane of glass separating him from the outside.

Arthur glanced up from the map as Antonio rose from the bed. He watched interested and ready to intervene if the other tried anything. Seeing the other wasn't going to do anything unusual he looked back at the map. "Did you eat any more today?" he asked not looking at the other. Instead he pretended to be absorbed in the map. He knew from his men what had happened still he was giving Antonio a chance to tell him. See if the Spaniard was as broken as he seemed. Though either answer would get himself punished. If he lied Arthur would punish him for not telling the truth, if he told the truth it would be for not eating.

Antonio blinked and looked back. He shrugged, pointing to the half-empty plate. He wasn't stupid, just stubborn. And he still wasn't very hungry. His appetite was still rather poor. He didn't feel like talking either. His throat was hurting. All he wanted was water, but there wasn't enough. He pressed his forehead against the glass and rasped in alarm, his eyes widening in alarm. It was freezing to him. He pressed his palm to it and hissed at both the painful cold and the rapidly spreading fog. Either the temperature was dropping outside... or he was quite literally burning up.

Arthur allowed his gaze to fall upon the partially eaten plate. He stood, "I didn't ask you to eat half of it. Clear your plate Anthony" he said using the same tone he'd use for child. Not that he ever had to with Alfred, the boy ate everything on his plate, even Arthur's own cooking. Arthur was spared giving a threat by hearing Antonio make a sound of pain. Raising a (rather bushy) brow he headed over to see exactly it was this time. He was even more confused when it appeared nothing was wrong.

Antonio grimaced, pouting like a child who didn't get his way, but shuffled over to the food. He moved unstedily, brushing past Arthur, as he did and sat down on the chair. He wished it were fruit like a tomate, but it was all the dry foods... breads and grains... He licked his chapped lips and began eating, having to force the dry food down his throat, where it sat, making it harder to breathe...

"Thirsty..." he whined quietly, all he wanted was water. He would even be happy to be thrown off the ship at this point. At least the water would cool him. He shivered, rubbing his hands over his arms as goosebumps raised on his skin. The room was so cold... Unbearable... He didn't like it... He wanted his lovely summer sun...

Arthur smirked seeing the other leap to do his bidding. He said eat, the other ate. He chuckled, if he said crawl to him at this point Spain probably would. He would do anything it seemed to avoid punishment. The pirate leaned against the windows crossing his arms. There was something off with Antonio though, he seemed cold, that or he was truly terrified. As much as he hated to waste water on something like the Spaniard he couldn't allow the other to become even more dehydrated. Nodding to the request Arthur fetched a pitcher. "Now what will you do to receive this water Anthony? Or should I drink it myself?" he asked still filling and setting a glass on the desk. Just enough to make sure the other could properly speak to him.

Antonio swallowed thickly, forcing the food down as it stuck to his dry throat and trying not to choke. It was too cold. He rubbed his arms harder, trying to warm them up. How the mighty had fallen he realized, leaning forwards to hide his face. He was obedient as a trained dog to that pirate scum. He tamped down on the self-loathing to sit back up. He wouldn't think about it until later...

"A...gua?" he repeated hopefully. He had to do something? He would do ANYthing to get enough water. He eyed the small glass like it held the Elixir of youth. A glance at his m- captor... informed him that it was indeed for him. But was it a trap? He hesitated, his hand slightly outstretched. He licked his dry liips and spoke, leaving the glass... despite the desire to drain the cup dry, "What... do you... want me to do?"

"Drink the glass first Anthony" England commanded still holding the pitcher. He enjoyed seeing the obedience setting in, it was better than the dead look, but still less fun than actually breaking the other nation. Arthur knew exactly what he wanted the other to do, what he refused to do the first day this all began. This time Spain would come to him, please him. The pirate smirked, this time his captive would open his mouth like the slut he really was.

He didn't need further prompting. He immediately lifted the glass and drank it down, soothing the burning in his throat as he did and sending the food into its destination. He lowered it as a wave of dizziness struck, but he ignored it. The only indication he gave was he moment of vertigo and the hand clamping down on the chair to give him something to focus on. He looked at England, waiting for the verdict. He wanted more, but England was crafty... He had to know what the deal was before he agreed.

"What do you want me to do...?" he asked quietly. He didn't react to the strange expression appearing on the Englishman's face. It did not bode well for the poor Spaniard. He could just tell...

Arthur decided not to answer the question Anthony kept asking. Instead he motioned for the other to get front of him. "Kneel" he simply said, even though that wasn't half of what he wanted the other to do. If the other failed to comply as always there would be punishment in order. But Spain was obedient now, there would be no reason for that. "You're still thirsty, and as your host I feel bad only providing you with water"

Antonio hesitated for a moment, out of nervousness, but got up and moved to kneel before him. He kept his head down and his eyes to the side. Partly out of shame, but mostly because of where his face sat. The feeling of something being wrong was increasing. But what it was... He didn't know. Or he did, and just wished not to think about it. He clenched his jaw and looked up. "Then what are you planning to have me drink?" He knew England would not give him Rum or wine or anything like that. But right now all he wanted was liquid. He didn't care what kind so long as he could soothe the burning in his throat.

Arthur ran his free hand though his captive's hair the other still holding the pitcher. "Hm, something quite tasty I'm sure" he chuckled before leaning over and placing the water down. England then freed himself from his pants, "Though you do have to work for it" he said smirking down at the man kneeling before him.

Antonio rolled his eyes. The Englishman had a horrible sense of taste. And his food was awful. How his people managed to be able to cook anything edible when their nation could burn water was beyond him. "No." the disgusted word slipped from his lips when he realized Arthur's plan. An piousness plagued him as soon as he realized what he had said. He looked up fearfully, but tried to hold firm. The pirate already had a use for him, as much as he wanted to deny it. He balked at the sight before him and swallowed. He really didn't want to do this...

Arthur gripped Anthony's hair pulling it hard making the other look up again. "You refuse to drink?" he asked half growling. "After all the hospitality I have shown you. You refuse?" The pirate pulled again knowing he couldn't cut the other one open. Oh but how he wanted to. He moved himself closer to the other's mouth forcing the head back down. "Suck" his tone held dire consequences if the broken man refused again. It was him or his crew. After all this journey would get lonely for them.

Antonio yelped, reaching up to grasp the hand holding his hair so roughly. He cried out again as his hair was pulled, trying to pry his fingers loose. It hurt! He couldn't move his head with Arthur's hand holding his hair so tightly. But he tried to twist his head to free it. He cringed, whimpering at the implied threat. He wanted to be left alone... But he was a prisoner... He clenched his jaw anxiously, lowering his eyes before closing them completely. He slowly opened his mouth, his jaw shaking from fear and anger. He had no doubts about the Englishman's cruelty. That was the only reason he'd obey.

Arthur smirked guiding himself into his captive's mouth. His left hand caressed Anthony's cheek a subtle encouragement. The pirate's other hand remained in his hair, to make sure the other didn't decide to change his mind suddenly. England bit his own tongue getting more enjoyment out of the position than anything else. He felt the other's tongue attempting to avoid his length and moaned. Deciding Spain had enough time to adjust to him, to know what to expect, Arthur withdrew before thrusting back, he set the pace, let his captive try to keep up.

Antonio gagged slightly, his jaw almost shutting before he regained control. His stomach rebelled, but he managed to hold back more than a couple of false starts... The taste wasn't necessarily the worst, but it was pretty awful. And the burning heat coursing through him did not help at all... Nor did the dizziness that was starting to become more frequent. He shuddered at the touch on his cheek and almost attempted to draw away. But the hold on his hair kept him still. He tried to keep his mind off of what was being done to him, but before he could retreat from the world... The Englishman started. He choked and gurgled while he struggled in an attempt to escape the rapid thrusting. He could feel it rubbing against the tag hanging from the back of his mouth and the head bumping against the back of his throat. He gagged and heaved, the reaction to the contact instinctive. He couldn't breathe... He closed his eyes tightly, and tried to open wider, hoping the monster using him for pleasure would finish soon.

Spain feared he would pass out otherwise...

Arthur continued his pace enjoying the struggling he felt from the other. He felt Anthony's attempts to hold down what ever he had in his stomach. Wise move, the pirate was just looking for another reason to punish his captive. To quickly for England's tastes he felt himself reaching the edge. Growling he thrust harshly one last time before releasing, he didn't remove himself until he was sure his captive had swallowed. Even then he waited before slowly pulling out almost tempted to stroke himself to a rise again and just take the bastard at his feet. Instead Arthur let go of the brown hair and wiped himself off. "Go finish off the water" he commanded before stretching. Perhaps he'd go spend a few more hours out on deck, enjoy the early night. England nudged Spain with his foot,"Drink quickly I'm taking you out on deck"

Antonio choked as his mouth was suddenly filled, swallowing as much as he could as it ran down his throat. Tears leaked from his eyes as he felt it burn down his sore throat and the excess oozed from the corners of his mouth. It seemed to last forever... But it soon ended, the englishman softening in his mouth before pulling away. Once he had completely pulled out Antonio finally allowed himself to start heaving. He didn't even notice himself being released as he was violently sick on the floor. He emptied his stomach, but couldn't stop. His body shook with the force of his heaving and he fell forward onto his hands, and further down to rest on his elbows. He nodded weakly as Arthur spoke, but he was quite sure the pirate was going to be angry with him... What was wrong with him?

England looked at the vomit that now cursed his floor. Then he scowled at the man that allowed it to happen. He lifted a foot placing on the back of Spain's head and pushed. Right into the mess. "You'll clean that up too, and quickly before I decide the water will be used for this task" he said. The smell was disgusting, and Arthur realized this was just another thing he had to save his stupid captive from.

Antonio wasn't even able to put up any resistance, sinking into the puddle of vomit as he was shoved facedown like a dog. He shivered weakly, trying to get up. He couldn't let that water be used to clean. He needed that water... But he was so tired... He screwed up his face to try and keep what little dignity he had left... And burst into loud sobs. He covered his head as he cried, uncaring that he was laying in a pile of vomit, partially digested food, and semen. It was too much...

"J-just k-kill me..." Antonio begged, desperate to end it. End the torture. The humiliation. He couldn't take it.

Arthur scoffed, "Why would I do that?" He stood back for a second watching the other cry. There is was. Spain broken... yet it wasn't as satisfying as he thought it would be. Arthur crossed his arms looking away, "You're getting ransomed back to your home. You'll rest then be sent out again. We'll run into each other again and this game will continue. I won this time, I won't kill you for it" he said removing rum from a case before leaving the room. Arthur purposely left the door open.

When the other composed himself he could come out. There were enough eyes watching him. And really England was just standing outside the door, drinking his rum. Here was to being the one on top, to have the world at your feet.


	6. Sapphire water, final deal

So long, not post. To all of you still watching this- I AM SORRY. But here.

Enjoy, review, and demand that I update faster.

And do remember characters, and the Revolutionary War to not belong to us. We're just writing this story, just borrowing things to entertain us all.

* * *

A game... Antonio laughed as he cried, high and hysterical. Of course. To Arthur this was just a game. He gallivanted around stealing from every one and never thought of what it meant for his victim. And all this... All that he had done... It was all a fucking game... He sat up, still laughing. Oh so wonderful. Antonio stood up slowly, shaking like a leaf from the fatigue and laughter that wracked his weakened frame.

"Dios mio..." he finally managed, wiping tears from his eyes as he made his way to the door. England wouldn't kill him? Fine. He just wanted to be free of the pain. His last stand. He stepped out, his eyes closed against the burning light. He sighed as warmth soaked into his body, leaning against the doorjamb to soak in the sun. He slowly opened his eyes, letting the light in. The sun. A soft smile quirked his lips as he looked up at the blue sky.

The bottle touched Arthur's lips again as he heard laughter come from his cabin. That bastard better be cleaning his floor while laughing. He tipped the bottle back taking a swig. Just awhile longer until sunset. Another day down... England wished he could stop time right here. Where he was at the top, where he conquered instead of being conquered. It was a good time to be an Englishman.

The pirate glanced over seeing the source of the laughter, or rather his insane prisoner lean in the doorway. "Go drink your precious water" he said noticing the other did not carry the pitcher with him. Arthur's gaze returned to his ship and the men moving about it. Yes, he wished to stop time right here.

"Ahaha~" he laughed loudly, drawing attention to himself as he staggered over to England drunkenly. In the light his eyes were over-bright and a red hue was spread across his face from heat. But that was unimportant. Why waste his time with that small pitcher when there was so much to be had here? He giggled at the idea. He was so thirsty that the pitcher would not be enough. But the whole ocean? That could soothe the burn. He looked at the glittering waters. The finest silver, gold, aquamarine, sapphires and jade. He moved to get closer to the side. Then he turned and sent a strange smile at the Englishman.

"Amigo..." he stated cheerfully as his eyes closed, "I think I am going to go for a swim."

And with that, he tilted himself over the edge.

England eyed Spain that look in the other's eyes screamed something stupid was going to be done. It wasn't the same spark that Anthony had when they fought. But he felt like it was close enough, and the giggles, his captive had really lost it with his lunch. Still Arthur took another swig watching his captive carefully, they just had to keep him away from sharp objects, hanging objects and the ed- "Bloody bastard" Arthur swore watching his captive tip over the edge.

Quickly he threw off his hat, his coat still hanging inside (it had been too hot for it anyway and he wasn't needing to impress anyone). The bottle hit the deck as he rushed forward grabbing rope shouting orders to tie up the sails. Slow the ship. He tied off one end the other about his middle and dove in after Anthony. Really he couldn't believe for the... third or fourth time in days he was going to save this idiot's life. Spain owed him a whole lot of gratitude... and money. A whole lot more money than he was getting anyway.

He hit the water with a splash, the cool water causing a tremor to run through him. But he smiled as he began to sink. It felt nice and was so soothing. He hadn't bothered to breathe before tipping himself over, and his lungs demanded air. He opened his mouth, swallowing water and choking. His survival instincts kicked in, but he had already begun inhaling water. He quickly lost what little oxygen was left and went limp, black encroaching his vision as he rapidly reached the point of no return.

A faint splash made his eyes flicker, but he was already past caring. Instead he mentally made his peace with God. He was finally going to die...

The rope snapped taunt just as Arthur reached Anthony. He let out a gasp precious air escaping. England wrapped his arms about the other nation when he felt a tug. Followed by another. He gritted his teeth and swam as best he could with the extra weight to the surface. The rope was digging into his sides as his crew pulled. They weren't keen on losing their captain to something so stupid.

Arthur winced as his back his the rail of the ship but he refused to let go of the dead weight in his arms. "Grab him," he rasped glad when his orders were followed. He lay on the deck as his crew tried to revive the other, Arthur glared at the brunette forcing himself up.

At first, Antonio didn't react to the attempts to revive him. He remained unmoving and unresponsive. But after a few moments, his body convulsed and he began to cough and choke on the water clogging his throat and lungs. They turned his head to the side to let the water drain and stood back. He was fine now. Well as fine as a man who almost died twice could be. Antonio was still unconscious, his body limp as a ragdoll.

His eyes fluttered open. The light was too bright, but he just closed his eyes. He was tired anyways... The faint breeze was cold, making his skin prickle, and he shivered. He was still alive... A raspy chuckle escaped him, more sea-water working its way out of his body through his mouth.

"Of course..." He whispered, sinking back into that black oblivion of unconsciousness...

Arthur pushed himself to his feet. "Bind him," he said soon as he saw Spain cough up water. The idiot was alive. England knew it was his fault for letting the other have so many chances. He shouldn't have been so nice. Well, Arthur was learning. He stripped off his shirt wringing it out as his orders were again followed. "Toss him somewhere out of the way, but make sure he can't move. We don't him being an idiot again" he said before going into his cabin.

It was nice to have a loyal crew. England's orders were followed without question and Spain was tied to the stairs. Away from supplies. Away from anything he could possibly hurt himself with.

Antonio woke with a pounding headache. He groaned and lifted his head to work out the soreness. He soon found out why. He blinked to get used to the gloom and let his head fall down. He started to giggle again. It hurt with his throat being so sore, but he couldn't help it. Life was so cruel. What else was there to do but laugh? And he laughed loudly, throwing his head back as he roared in his false amusement.

The laughter died down as tears fell. He didn't sob outright, but his breath hitched and soft sounds escaped him. He just wanted it all to stop. But every time he tried, he was dragged back into the land of the living... and his own personal hell. He looked down at himself. It hurt to be able to see his own ribs. So thin... He closed his eyes. He wanted to be free from this. But his last chance had failed.

"Now I am truly caged amigo..." he murmured to himself, but intending it for Arthur's ears. Even without the bindings... He would not fight any longer.

Arthur laughed pulling his captive back. "That scared love?" he asked, "If I was you I'd be thanking the one who saved me from death repeatedly." He didn't do anything else just smirked at the man who trembled at the sight of him now. The hollow feeling he had from breaking Spain was gone, righteous victory in its place. Gripping the other's jaw he kissed Spain, as simple chaste kiss.

"Why that's better way of saying thanks," he replied as if the other initiated it. Arthur leaned closer again and whispered, "Best remember that when you're back in my bed tonight." Then smirking let go and left again. Although he wasn't gone for long before he returned with the water Anthony had neglected to drink. Sighing he sat on the steps pouring himself a glass sipping idly away.

Antonio whimpered as he was pulled over, cringing as the pirate spoke. iDon't hurt me.../i he mentally pleaded. He was scared of the pirate. Afraid of the power he held over him.

He stiffened as he was grabbed tightly and kissed, not daring to pull away. The words spoken in his ear made him tremble, knowing what the Pirate meant. He twitched anxiously as he was let go, turning his head away so that he wouldn't have to see him. A sound drew his attention and he glanced over. Water. He licked his lips, wincing at the taste of sea salt. He could have slapped himself for his stupidity in his moment of insanity. All that water and he had decided to throw himself off the side of the ship. He found his eyes drawn to the glass Arthur held, but each time he noticed, he quickly turned away.

Arthur was amused by this little game he had started. Anthony would watch him drink, and when ever he began to look back the other would pretend he wasn't just staring. He watched his men move about the ship even though his thoughts were with the man tied up behind him. "Thirsty Anthony?" he asked not expecting an answer. He looked at the glass of water, "I do suppose this is not to your taste, after all you only enjoy fluids that kill you"

Antonio stiffened as he was addressed, looking at Arthur warily. He was thirsty... but what would the cost for a drink be? The last time had been... That... And he would rather figure out another way to commit suicide than go through that again. He turned his head away and lowered it. A sign of submission rather than insolence.

"I ... am thirsty..." he whispered, closing his eyes. There was no point in trying to hide the obvious... He hadn't drank anything but what had been forced down his throat. And neither of those was any good for him.

Arthur took another sip, "And hungry as well no doubt, a bit of hardtack and apple core barely feeds a rat, though a whore like you is probably use to little for long periods of time" he said talking more to the air than the man he was actually addressing. England caught out of the corner of his eye caught Spain's submission.

Well, that would do for now. He wasn't in the mood for anything more at the moment. Grabbing the pitcher he walked over to Spain. "Open," he commanded knowing Anthony could swallow well enough on his own.

Antonio flinched. He hated that he was always called that, but there was nothing he could do about it. Especially now that he was bound and helpless yet again. He didn't say anything though, simply sighed and lowered his head further in shame. He couldn't believe what he had been reduced to. A weakling who tried to kill himself at any opportunity and only cared for on the whims of a psychopath.

He curled in on himself as the Pirate approached, but looked up at him warily. He obeyed the command without hesitation, well aware that repercussions were always dire. He wasn't about to forget any of it...

England grabbed Spain's jaw making sure he didn't try to turn away. He wasn't going to have the Spaniard waste more water. Carefully he tipped the pitcher pouring the water into the other's mouth. Only a bit though, no need to have him drowning. Especially when he just saved the bastard from it. He repeated the motion a few more times letting Anthony swallow between turns. Arthur didn't finish until the pitcher was gone, "You remember the price for water, I'll expect payment tonight along with your gratitude for saving your life again" he said stepping back. Spain was making a rather long tab for himself England decided not that he minded really.

Antonio drank gratefully, the sore heat soothed by the cool liquid poured into his mouth. It returned once the water stopped of course, but he was full. So he licked his lips and let his head hang down. He was hungry, but the water in his stomach was enough to take it away. He didn't need to be 'indebted' more than he had to.

He closed his eyes as the pirate spoke, nodding his head miserably. He wondered what the pirate would do if he started refusing to ask for water. It didn't really matter. He would still find a way to force Antonio to sleep with him or worse. The Pirate was a worse nymphomaniac than France. Antonio sighed, wondering if he should mention that to him. Probably not. The pirate would probably take that as an invitation to screw Antonio right in front of his own crewmen. He cringed at the thought. Then an even worse one struck. What if he forced Antonio to let those Englishmen use him like their captain had? A terrified whimper escaped him. He would never survive the shame and humiliation.

Arthur laughed and left his prisoner to take the helm of the ship himself. The empty pitcher sat nearby, after all he didn't have to worry anymore. He knew no matter how weak Anthony appeared not to untie him. And with his legs the most he could to is kick over the empty thing. He smiled feeling the wind.

Night arrived quickly, and after Spain's swim rather uneventfully~. Arthur didn't trust his crew with the prisoner again. Especially noticing how a few of the crew men eyes his prisoner. He had threatened it before, well mentally at least, but as long as Anthony behaved he didn't see any reason to share. England was just a little bit selfish.

Antonio could do very little as he sat there. In fact... The way some of those Englishmen were staring at him, made him too frightened to use his usual method of passing time by sleeping. So he sat there rigidly, waiting to be led to his fate... Time seemed to crawl for him. Every sound and every sudden movement enough to make him flinch. His heart sank with the setting sun as the time to pay his captor neared.

England gathered his prisoner without saying a word. He had already bit a good night to the crew, and grabbed something for himself to eat. He smiled at Anthony, it was anything but pleasant as he dragged the other back into his quarters. It took minimal effort to throw the Spaniard on to the middle of his floor. "You never cleaned up your mess from before," he said even though the stain was gone by now. "Careful else you'll be running up a debt with my crew as well. We're not a cruise ship despite the hospitality you've received" he said finding amusement in his own words.

He stood back waiting for the other to move. Arthur wanted a little play time. Even though Anthony didn't seem to have any fight left in him, the other moving was all it required.

Antonio cringed at the smile leveled at him, his face twisting in fear and the knowledge of what was to happen again. He struggled to keep up as he was hauled over to the place he had spent so much time in. He didn't want to do this, but he knew England wouldn't stop. If anything the pirate would get worse if asked to change anything he wanted to do.

Antonio was thrown from his thoughts by the impact he felt with the ground, knocking the air from his lungs. He shook with fear as he looked up at Arthur with impossibly wide eyes. A croak of terror escaped his lips as he curled into himself, making a smaller target. He could hear the amusement in the pirate's voice, but that only fueled the fear coursing through him. He blinked rapidly as his vision blurred... and was horrified to feel burning liquid gather and slid over the skin on his face.

He curled inwards even more as he helplessly tried to hide the tears... despite the fact that they only seemed to increase.

Arthur kneeled next to his captive still amused. "Crying already? I haven't even touched you," he said before running his hand into the other's hair. He pulled slightly forcing Anthony to look at him, "Or you just that sorry you forced me to save your life more than once?" he asked raising a brow. England let go deciding he was right and picked Spain up once again. This would be no fun if he kept having to pry open the other.

Moving quickly Arthur untied his prisoner's hands for a second before retying them. This time though one to each corner of his bed. He smirked running a hand down Spain's leg enjoying the other trembling. "Tell me how sorry you are for making me go through such"

Antonio shivered as Arthur pet him, and was unresisting as his head was jerked up. He closed his eyes rather than look at his torturer though, and let the tears spill over his cheeks as Arthur continued to toy with him. He didn't try to escape as he was lifted easily, made light by his self-neglect, and instead lay limply in his arms. He knew he had turned into a submissive... whatever the Pirate viewed him as, but... He just couldn't keep fighting.

He didn't fight as he was tied to the bed. He would just let Arthur take what he wanted and endure. That's what he told himself. But his body was less inclined to agree... It tensed under the man's touch and shook with Antonio's fear. His legs closed to keep his vital region protected even slightly as his tears were voiced in an anguished sob. They would offer little protection... Only a little amount of pressure on Arthur's part could peel them apart easily.

"Lo siento. Yo siento mucho. Por favor, Yo siento..." he wailed, weakened by his shame and humiliation and fear.

Arthur applied pressure to his captive's leg. "English dear Anthony, I want to hear your apology in my tongue," he said his hand slowly inching upward. If only he could forever keep Spain like this. Then again it would become boring, he needed the Spaniard to recover somewhat. That way he could begin this game again. England moved so that he was halfway over the other, his breath playing along the other's neck. "I'm waiting."

"P-p-please..." Antonio begged tearfully, turning his head away and pressing it against his own shoulder. He gasped and whimpered at the touch as it slid higher, his head moving in miniscule shakes of denial. He felt warmth moving to cover him and tried to melt into the matress beneath him. e felt the hot breath on his neck and whimpered more, crying with fear and shame. His mouth opened and the words inched out between his sobs, "I-I-I'm S-sorry! I'm s-sorry! P-please! I'm s-sorry."

Arthur chuckled kissing the neck of the one below him. His hand moved up cupping Anthony though his pants. "Please? My you are eager tonight. And here I thought you didn't want me" he teased rubbing his palm against the other's flaccid organ. Arthur moved his kissed down Anthony's neck chuckling at the movements of his prisoner. One second he's curling away the next he's begging for the pirate to take him, moving his head to give the pirate better access to his neck.

Antonio whimpered at the kisses, his terror growing at the contact he was subjected to by his captor. They became increasingly shorter sounds as his breathing began to quicken. He tried to calm himself, but he was only just able to bring it under control when it spiraled away yet again, the new fear brought by the hand at his crotch and the teasing he was subjected to. But... against his will... his body responded to the gentle treatment. The hand caressing and rubbing at his vital region slowly brought it to life, making it rise and strain against the fabric of his pants.

"That's a good Spain" Arthur whispered mocking the other feeling his captive's arousal. He paused in his ministrations to slowly remove the Anthony's pants. Those wouldn't be needed... the shirt could stay... only because he didn't feel like replacing another one. The pirate moved kissing at the now bared thighs eying the evidence of the other's desire. "You must enjoy paying back your debts" he teased still not returning to touch Spain's vital regions.

He didn't sob as his body betrayed him, instead moving to aid Arthur in removing the rough fabric from his lower body. He twitched at the soft contact along his inner leg the muscles visible against the bone as they jumped reflexively. He looked at Arthur evenly despite the tears clumping his eyelashes and obscuring his vision. There was no emotion in those blank green orbs, just emptiness. "I don't care anymore..." he sighed, laying back down and letting the Englishman do what he wished. He was just too tired to care what the Englishman would do to him. He thought about continuing, but shook his head instead, and turned his head to look at a wall.

Arthur pulled off his own shirt moving so he was directly above his captive. He positioned himself between the other's thighs, even though he had yet to remove his own pants. "Then enjoy it" he said nipping at his prisoner's jaw, "Your body already is," Arthur pointed out running his hand down Anthony's side before slipping under the shirt.

"Then again don't," England added as an afterthought, "Since you've failed killing yourself physically let yourself die emotionally. Become a shell"

He didn't react to the sudden movement except for a slight jump of surprise. He hadn't expected that England would move so sharply, but true to his word, he didn't react otherwise. He didn't even seem to hear the jibe aimed at his weakness, or the nip along his jawline; still staring at nothing. England normally had warm hands, but to Spain they were cold as ice in the mountains. He let his mind wander, wondering about why it suddenly seemed the nation had such cold hands. Maybe he was sick?

England was only slightly annoyed that he had stopped getting any response out of his captive. His mouth might not be working but Spain's body was responding to his ministrations. But since he was getting no verbal responses Arthur went right to the main event. He lined himself up with the unprepared hole. A little bleeding wouldn't kill anyone. And he was tired of coddling his captive. Nuzzling Anthony's neck he slowly pushed his way inside.

He swallowed and braced himself as he felt Arthur prepare to enter. This was going to hurt and, as much as he hated pain, he would have to react to something like this. No preparation was going to hurt and no lubrication on top of that was even worse. He gasped and tensed as he felt the head force itself into him... But relaxed a moment later, gasping and shaking with the pain. His arms jerked against the ties holding them above his head, but it was instinctual not planned. The only thing he did willingly was turn his head away and try to pretend this wasn't happening.

Arthur bit down lightly on the neck presented to him sheathing himself fully inside the other. Despite all the other times before it was still tight, still just what England needed. Since the other seemed to still be tired from the 'swim' earlier today the pirate decided he'd be nice and not waste any more time. Licking the spot he just bit Arthur began to move quickly gaining in speed. Needless to say he ignored the other's arousal, he wasn't participating, and he wasn't getting release.

It hurt like he expected, but other than the faint moans of pain ghosting over his lips, he didn't seem to respond. He had been forced to endure this so many times. He felt his insides tear again, blood forming a lubricant for the invader as it pumped into him. He found himself hardening further against his will. But he pretended not to notice. He closed his eyes and waited for the pain of salt in the wounds that would signify the Pirate captain finishing.

He idly wondered what would happen next, imagining himself being left like that to be used for the captain's amusement. Or Arthur losing interest and forcing him to pleasure the crew however they desired. a shiver ran through him at the thought. At least Arthur hadn't shoved anything besides that horrible cock inside of him. He wasn't sure what he would to if he was used as a plaything to shove stuff into just to see how it made him squirm. He had already tried to die so many times...

Arthur finished quickly enough receiving the physical pleasure he had wanted. "You should beg me more often, I might not grow bored of you so easily then whore" he whispered to Spain giving one last thrust. He then pulled out and sat back to clean himself up. From his point of view he admired the scene before him. The once powerful Spain tied to his bed, aroused and the pirate's own seed spilling out of him.

At least the imagery made up for Anthony's own lack of response at the end. He wasn't into necrophilia. Arthur stretched and rose from the bed. It was dark out but the moon gave enough light. "Another night you occupy my bed for rest, your actions today proved you're still strong enough to move about. Tomorrow you're sleeping in the brig unless you can convince me otherwise" he said looking back down at his prisoner.

Antonio winced at the comment as he was filled with that painful liquid yet again, hating that horrible nickname England had given him. He lay there calmly, though tears had started falling down his cheeks without his knowledge. He hurt, but he said nothing about it even as he felt the disgusting mixture of blood and semen draining from inside his body. He looked at Arthur blankly, his green eyes dull as uncut jade.

"Not a whore..." he whispered softly. He could do nothing to prove himself, but he hated being called that word. He would not stand for it. He watched Arthur look at the picture he had created. One of humiliation. His wrists were tied by the rope, and he lay stretched out with his legs splayed open. His torn hole bled red and white, the silver light turning the red to inky black as the white gleamed like silver. He glared weakly at the Pirate Captain, "And why would I want to stay with you? I'd much rather stay there."

Arthur chuckled patting his prisoner on the head. "Because if you're in the brig it's free reign for my men to do whatever they please to you" he said his eyes roaming the other's body again. "I am sure they have known what I have done, what I tire of is theirs. I cannot reprimand them." his eyes returned to the dull green ones staring back at him. "You on the other hand can receive punishment for deducing captain and crew" England's hand left Spain's head to run though his own messy locks.

"Though I will be sure to remind them you can't bear any permanent marks. That would cut down on how much your sold for" Arthur continued mostly speaking to himself at this point. It wasn't like the other could suddenly interest him, and the thought of degrading Anthony more was highly appealing. After all, the pirate had threatened it many times and had yet to enforce it.

Spain flinched at the contact, fear making him anxious at any contact inflicted upon him. The words he spoke struck a cord in Antonio, the Spaniard's eyes widening with terror at the thought of being treated worse than he had been. He whimpered at the thought of being forced to do what the crew desired, remembering the looks they had given him when he was tied up outside. He may hate the captain, but the bastard was kind in his own twisted way. He was aware of the decision he had to make. Become England's willing plaything or be at the crew's mercy.

"I..." He trailed off, unwilling to voice his surrender. But if he had to face being used by the crew, he feared he would go mad. He swallowed and looked at England with wide frightened eyes, "please don't put me in the brig... I'll be ... I'll... I'll do what you want."

England crossed the room looking for a bottle of rum. "Of course you're going to do as I say. You're tied to my bed and physically unable to do anything except attempt to kill yourself" he pointed out finding the bottle he had been looking for. He uncorked it looking back at the other, "So really you don't have to do a thing at this point in the game and I can find satisfaction. But that's not what I want."

Arthur headed back over taking a drink from the bottle. "Either you start providing some fight back for me insane Spaniard or participate fully. By the way I'd prefer the second one. I hate having to break you farther" he took another swig sitting himself on the bed. He knew once Spain was released back to his people he'd regain the fire, the glares, right now it was more fun to have the terrified, the willing.

Antonio looked away as Arthur spoke, recognizing the truth in them. He couldn't fight back though. Any more harsh treatment and he wouldn't come out unscathed. Well... Relatively anyways... He swallowed and nodded miserably. He wouldn't fight, but he really didn't want to give in. Too bad he didn't have much choice.

"I... I shall not fight you..." he whispered, tears of shame pricking his eyes. He looked at Arthur, watching him drink the liquid. He licked his lips anxiously, wondering what the pirate would do now that he had a willing partner rather than an unwilling one. He hoped he wouldn't have to do anything worse than he already did, but there was nothing he could do to put restrictions on it. He was only a prisoner. No rights at all. "I will... Do what you want..."

Arthur laughed again looking out across his room. Even now beaten, raped, practically half dead Spain was as thick as ever, "Remember Anthony you were doing that before. When I allowed you to move about. I said eat, you ate. I said suck, you sucked. Then you proceeded to dirty my floor and attempt to kill yourself." He looked back at his prisoner, "you'll have to better than that to convince me that you shouldn't be tossed to my crew"

England found himself enjoying this more than the sex earlier. Well at least the end. It had seemed so promising in the beginning with the begging. That was what he wanted. To see the other groveling asking for his mercy. Arthur held out the bottle giving it a little shake, "Thirsty?" he teased.

"I'm sorry..." he whimpered, the laugh was frightening and the words were even more so. He didn't mean to be sick like that. He had tried to hold it in. But he couldn't. It was so horrible and he couldn't stand it. He had barely managed to swallow when it came back up. Tears of fear gathered in his eyes as he swallowed the tattered remnants of his pride and begged, "I'm sorry... Please don't. I'll do anything."

He paused at the question, glancing from England to the bottle nervously. He was parched, but he definitely didn't like the payment. He swallowed once and nodded. He was thirsty, but he would be raped again even if he said he wasn't. A no win situation, "Yes... I am thirsty..."

Arthur raised a brow. "We both know you are desperate Spain. But I shall have to see results before I place any faith in you again" he said smirking. Obviously the Spaniard did care somewhat of what happened. The act in bed had been just that. An act. He took another drink from the bottle before leaning over. His mouth found Anthony's and his tongue force it's way inside, or rather would have if Spain was lying and didn't open his mouth. The burn of the rum quickly followed his tongue sweeping inside the other's mouth.

He nodded miserably. Of course England would want more... He yelped in surprise as he was kissed, his lips parting in surprise. He felt the warm muscle force itself into his mouth followed by the bitter, burning taste of alcohol. He swallowed instinctively, the burning liquid aggravating his throat. _Don't cough don't cough don't cough! _His breath hitched as he tried not to cough. Thankfully this time, he managed to hold it back instead of choking and coughing in England's face.

England pulled away leaving his face close to Spain's for a second. Tempting the other to disobey, daring the other to refuse what he had just willingly handed over. It was rum, far more precious than what something like Anthony deserved. He smirked and kissed his prisoner's nose when nothing was forth coming. "Good," he complimented before sitting up straight again.

He stood, finishing off the rest of the bottle himself. One taste was enough for Anthony. He placed the bottle away; he never let things get messy especially while at sea before returning to bed. "hm, you are taking up most the space on my bed" he said tapping the side of his chin looking at still belonged to him.

Antonio gulped, licking his lips absently to rid them of the harsh taste. He winced at the kiss on his nose, but didn't question Arthur. The Pirate was strange. He had been strange the entire time that Antonio had been held captive. But this time it seemed that being docile would be the best choice. Even if the thought of doing so made him cringe.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He was tied to the headboard. It wasn't like he had a choice in the matter. But he had a feeling England would not appreciate having that pointed out to him. He looked away from England, and ended up looking down at himself. To his disgust he realized he was still aroused; he hadn't found release when England had used him this time, so he was left with a... little problem. He turned his face to the wall, pretending not to have noticed it.

Arthur frowned, "Did I ask you to point out the obvious to me Anthony?" he asked annoyed the other felt he had to voice he was immobile. As if the pirate cared if he fell asleep atop his prisoner, he would be able to breathe just fine. Luckily the other seemed to get the point and rolled onto their side. England laid down in the opened space pulling the other against his chest. "You realize good behavior will allow you to sleep without that problem" he muttered quickly falling asleep now that he had laid down. Today had been rather eventful, and tiring. And just far to long for England's liking.

Antonio blinked, baffled by the Englishman's comment. All he wanted to know was what Arthur wanted. But it seemed his shifting to avoid looking at the Pirate was enough. He felt the other man lay down behind him and an arm pull him flush against the warm body of his captor. He squirmed anxiously for a few seconds, his wrists hurting from being twisted and tugged on. He was bent awkwardly, but the deep even breaths behind him meant Arthur was asleep. He sighed as England tightened his grip in an attempt to pull the Spaniard closer and resigned himself to a rather tiring night.

"Not like you care Arthur," he whispered to the sleeping captain behind him miserably, "You just want a plaything. And I'm the perfect toy. I hope you're happy with what you have done. You certainly sleep like you aren't troubled..."

Arthur slept peacefully unaware of his prisoner's comments. They were true though. He wanted something he could control, every aspect. Sure the crew listened but crews changed, men died. Spain would not die, would change slowly. And until now was something to almost fear. England smiled in his sleep his breath against his prize's neck. Yes, he had exactly what he wanted.

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Alright, finally this update... review as I work on the next one!


	7. Spanish pets, English masters

Warnings: rape, Pirate!England, broken!Spain... if you cannot guess this is a forced yaoi yet there was your blatant warning.

Note: This is a co-written story between myself and Akuoni

Don't like don't read.

Reviews are appreciated

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Antonio felt and heard his stomach growl, violently demanding food. But it was just one more thing to add to his list of problems. His arms had stopped hurting only a couple of hours ago, and he really had to use the porcelain bowl. Plus, if he wasn't mistaken... England would want him to take care of a minor problem when he awoke. He groaned tiredly and shifted in yet another failed attempt to get comfortable. He had tried to sleep, but the pain and discomfort had kept him up all night. He had a feeling England would not be so lenient to let him take a siesta...

England awoke well rested, it took him a moment to remember what he was clutching in his sleep. Because he'd never cling so desperately to something. As he realized it was the Spaniard he rolled away getting up from bed. The other should feel lucky that he he didn't wish to fuck right now. Rather, he wished to raid something, it had been a good while since the catch of Spanish goods. And he had been laying low since then so the better ships should be easy again. Sure it wouldn't be anything like the Spanish Gallon that was headed out in a few months. Arthur still hadn't forgotten his prisoner's mention of the ship.

He looked back at the broken man in his bed and smirked. There was more he remembered, like the promise to be perfectly complying and less like a corpse Anthony wished to become. England proceeded to move about as if the other didn't exist knowing he had the promise. That was enough at the moment.

Antonio stared blearily at the pirate as he moved about the cabin. Dark circles around his eyes stood out from his skin, a testament to his poor night. It seemed as though Arthur was content to just leave him there. He sighed to himself and squirmed in an attempt to move into a less painful position. The instant he did he sucked in an agonized breath of air as needles of pain shot up and down his no-longer numbed arms. What a way to wake up in the morning.

Arthur changed and headed out to get himself food. He chuckled at the sound his prisoner made, apparently it had been a rough night for him. The pirate took his sweet time getting food and drink for himself. Talking to the crew, checking over the ship, watching the waves. It was partially to make Spain wonder, worry. The other reason was to give him time to rest, after all England was tired of the free ride he was giving to Spain.

Antonio fell into a troubled sleep after Arthur had left. He was curled around the headboard to relieve the pressure on his wrists and arms, but the angle left his back and shoulder pressed against a wall and his feet hanging off the edge. When he woke, it would be with a pinched nerve and painful needles in his shoulder, arm, and upper back. On top of that, he was still thirsty and hungry. The discomfort kept him from falling into true restful sleep, and the faint sounds he could hear outside the cabin that served as his cage woke him constantly.

His eyes blinked open as he heard something outside.

"... The guy the cap'n 'as in 'is cabin... 'E's sum sorter Nob is 'e?" There was a mumble before the gruff voice continued, "'e orter let us 'ave a crack at that. 'e's keeping that bloke all to 'is lonesome an I don't..."

Antonio was trembling by the time the voice moved on, his eyes wide with terror. Forget sleep, he had to stay aware to keep safe. Though how to protect himself when he was helpless like this. As much as he hated the Englishman... He wanted nothing more than to see that arrogant face sneering down at him. The English bastard was familiar... The crewmen weren't...

England returned quite some time later still feeling good. His crew he found wanted a piece of the spoils he had collected. A few were swayed by him reminding them of the gold the man was going for. Others were just as sexually frustrated as he had been before getting his hands on Anthony. In his hands he carried a new pitcher of water and a plate of food. Dried meats, dried fruits, hardtack... The last two were not for him; no he had a fresh apple in his pocket, as well as that fruit like thing Spain so adored.

Arthur didn't even spare a glance towards the currently terrified man on his bed as he set the breakfast on his desk. "You're quite the invalid, forcing me to feed you," he said conversationally pulling the apple and tomato from his pockets. The pirate held onto the tomato looking it over, it was really such a strange thing. "We cannot risk you dying again can we though?"

"Lo siento..." He whispered weakly, curling even further into himself. He may hate Inglaterra but he was terrified of the crew. At least Inglaterra wanted him mostly whole. The crew wouldn't care. He shivered again, fear and cold washing over him, "Am Sorry... I be good. Not be mad please..."

His head hurt from lack of rest and his stomach ached from hunger. A red flush covered his cheeks and his skin was still pale from blood loss. He was weak from his failed attempts at suicide and so tired of fighting. HIs body had gone from healthy and muscular to thin and skeletal. And all he wore were the bands around his wrists. His bones were visible, the bands of his ribs and the jutting of his hipbones pressing against the skin. In the cool cabin he was so cold, his fingertips turning blue despite the heat in his core. And not only that, but he still leaked blood from his torn entrance... The semen and old blood already drained into the fabric he had been left on.

A fact he knew would result in punishment. Even if it wasn't his fault.

Arthur walked over to his prisoner turning the tomato over in his hands. "By be good, you mean lie there and tremble in fear of what I might do next? Or that you'll listen like the broken creature you are?" he asked. Deep inside England was sorry for the state he had reduced his enemy to. He wouldn't recognize it though, at least not outwardly. "Uncurl" he commanded before taking a bite out of the tomato.

Antonio uncurled slowly, his breath escaping with pain as he moved frozen muscles. It hurt and he felt tears gather in his eyes. But he sat up slowly, twitching in pain as he sat on his still sore rear. He closed his eyes and slumped forward, subservient and crushed. He didn't want to be punished. But whatever happened...

"I'm sorry..." He whispered, wishing he could curl up again. But if he did, he'd be thrown to the sharks... Metaphorically anyways. He couldn't even cover his face or head with shame. The binds were too short unless he curled up. He looked up with dull green eyes like unpolished sea stones, "Don't be angry with me. I'm sorry... I'll be good... be good."

He blinked uncertainly as his vision swam, swaying as vertigo struck, and fell back onto the headboard behind him. He sucked in air he suddenly couldn't breathe. He grabbed his throat, choking on nothing even though he knew there was no reason to. He didn't cry out for help, just writhed in agony as he tried to get precious air into his body. Why should he ask England for help? The pirate had no true affection for him. Only a desire that Spain was a convenient recipient for.

Arthur frowned around the tomato. Anthony was nothing but a broken record now. "Don't apologize again; I am tired of hearing it. You are only sorry that you failed in your death" he said after swallowing. He looked down at the tomato, where was the appeal in these? England watched the pale juice run from the tomato and drip onto his floor, it created messes, tasted strange... England looked from the tomato to his prisoner again.

Who it seemed had decided to attempt to stop breathing. The pirate snarled dropping the tomato uncaring what it did to his floor now. He pulled his knife cutting the binds free of his head board and forced Spain to lay out. Any way to open his lungs... Arthur hovered directly over Anthony unsure what else to do. Should he try to breathe for the man? Should he just let him go?

Annoyed now with his frantic response, Arthur shoved at his prisoners shoulders, righting himself again. "Breath normally, calm down," he commanded getting the food sure the captive was about to pass out from lack of oxygen.

Antonio struggled weakly against the hands holding him down in blind panick, but realized that England was trying to help. He still gasped and wheezed for air, his fear making it difficult to calm down. He was scared, unsure of why this was happening. And the fear showed in his wide eyes, the panicked light sparking brightly. It faded as he began to black out.

His eyes slid lower as he stopped hyperventilating, exhaustion and oxygen deprivation working their magic. He inhaled slowly, finally able to breathe, but the attack had left him so weak. He couldn't move. His head felt like fog and everything was muddled like in a murky pond. Even his fear and other emotions felt a long ways off. Instead he lay there, just breathing gently and blinking slowly...

Arthur picked at the dried meat listening to the sounds of the ship. The quiet creaking, the crew outside. He heard his captive struggling to breathe then... the pirate smiled. There were the slow breathes. He took a bite not needing to turn around to know what Spain was doing now. England chuckled breaking apart one of the pieces of hard tack, "I suppose I should call this a passed test," he said finding humor in the situation. He had commanded that the other calm and breathe, and look at that. Arthur poured a glass of water then carried the plate and the glass over to the bed.

"See what happens when you listen, whore?" he asked his eyes still shining with amusement. He set both down on the small side table and picked up the tomato he had dropped. Squished... well he hadn't liked it much anyway. Arthur pulled out his knife and cut off a piece holding it above Spain's mouth, "You're rewarded"

Antonio hummed softly as Arthur spoke, idly agreeing. He hadn't been able to control himself. It was a fluke, but he was grateful for it. His eyes still flickered at that hated nickname, but he remained silent. It was not a good idea to fight him on that.

A familiar smell drew his attention. Tomato. A ripe tomato, the earthy smell tantalizing and making his mouth water. But also bringing a heavy wave of homesickness. His lips trembled as tears gathered in his eyes. He parted his lips slightly. But whether to speak or to accept his 'reward'... was swallowed by a sob of despair. He couldn't help it. Such a reminder of home. A reminder of little South Italy. Little South who hadn't been thought of for so long.

"Estoy terrible..." he whispered. His voice soft and weak as tears continued to flow, "Mi tomatito esta en pelegro... Imperio Otomano podría llevarlo de nuevo..."

Arthur dropped the slice of tomato into Anthony's mouth to shut him up. "I do not care, next time you speak to me you will speak in my tongue," he said cutting another slice of the stepped on tomato. He understood the feeling of homesickness, for the familiar. It was fascinating to him though that the sight of the nasty tomato would bring Spain to tears.

He held the slice over his prisoner's mouth again setting the rest of the...object. The pirate was still confused what to call it, on the table with the rest of the food. "Now repeat what you just said in English, don't force me to ask again" he said calmly. The knife was in his hand with the second slice, it crossed England's mind for a moment to drop the knife into that throat into the mouth below. He banished it quickly, that was for punishment only.

He swallowed instinctively as it dropped down his throat, the familiar strange taste bringing more tears to the surface. He loved tomatoes because they made South happy. He originally thought they were poisonous, but soon discovered otherwise. He blinked at the request to repeat what he said. His eyes lowered with misery as he nodded.

"I'm terrible..." He whispered. He brought up a hand to rub at his persistent tears, trying to clear his blurred vision. But his distress at the thought of losing his little underling made him cry harder, "My Tomatito... My Little South Italy... Is in danger... Ottoman Empire may try to take him again... And I'm not there to protect him..."

Arthur sighed setting the second slice with the rest. "Feed yourself," he said before turning on his heel and walking back to his desk. "I expect that plate to be gone quickly" England added picking up the apple and beginning to peal it. He turned back so he could make sure Spain wasn't going to try to kill himself.

He understood the feeling Spain was having. But he wouldn't sympathize with his captive. To do such would be to become weak around him. Weak in front of the crew. Sure he could beat any of their asses back to England didn't mean he wanted to. Not over Anthony. He slowly pealed the apple eating the slivers, "He will be better off then. You cannot even take care of yourself" he said simply.

Antonio moved slowly, struggling into a sitting position. Once he was able to sit up, he pulled the food into his lap and began to eat. He left the tomato slice till last. He wanted to savour it when he did. He could feel the weight of the watchful Englishman's gaze on him but he ignored it.

He stiffened when England insinuated that South would ... His eyes lifted to stare at England, the fire that had gone dim was stoked into a raging inferno. He drew back his lips in a feral hiss, but quieted down quickly. The man didn't understand how he felt about South. How much it broke his heart when he would have to give up his precocious little underling.

"I love him. Ottoman Empire would be cruel to him. Better to be destroyed and save my little one than let him be taken and have a broken heart."

"Ah, so that was the reason behind the suicide attempts. To escape the guilt that you have basically handed South Italy over to the Ottoman Empire. And here I was praising myself," Arthur said inspecting his nails. He needed to remember that it was these sorts of insults, ones about the precious Southern Italy that brought back the fighting spirit of Spain. It was his last hope; therefore England felt the need to crush it.

The pirate chuckled at the proclamation of love. "Yes because you gone makes it that much more difficult for others to invade," he understood the sentiments though. The pirate himself had a weak spot for his colony. He knew he'd fight tooth and nail to make sure they were alright. Then again, he was looking at one who threatened his little America right now, and look how broken he was.

Antonio flinched at the ammunition he had just pretty much handed over to the pirate, but nodded slowly. Of course his shame was for a different reason. And he didn't care to tell the whole truth. He had told England what he had stolen from the Spaniard in a rather roundabout way. It seemed he did not know England truly until now. But now that he understood, he would not give him another shot. No more information to be used against him. Especially not his sickness.

"You mock... But I love him... And you love yours," Antonio spoke softly around each bite, until all that sat on the plate was his delicious tomato. He held it in his hands as he continued, "I have already arranged for the results of Lovino's return in the event of my death. God glory and gold. Hypocrisy Hubris and Avarice. I would give all the gold in the world to keep my Lovi safe, but..." I need that gold to stabilize my crumbling economy...

Arthur finished off his apple shrugging. He wouldn't give off anymore than that about Alfred. A snort was his only reply to what the underling would receive upon the Spaniard's death. Like that would stop any from going after him. Thinking about it, it was impossible really because the pirate planned on making sure the amount of gold going to Spain now was not but a trickle. "You don't have any gold to give up, the gold is mine Anthony."

"Finish up, I wish to be on deck" he said walking over to the bedside. He grabbed the plate letting his prisoner keep the slice. The rest of the disgusting thing could, and would be kept for later. He needed to put meat back on the idiot's bones or he might not get as much for the little whore. The pirate reached under his bed pulling a pair of pants out, the crew wanted Spain, so it would be best if he wasn't completely naked.

Antonio winced at the reminder of where his beloved gold went, but continued to eat the delicious tomato. It had taken a herculean effort not to cringe away or flinch as England approached to take the plate from him. He didn't care that he was eating it messily, getting juice to run down his chin and all over his hands. He lapped up the juice from his hands and fingers with pleasure. A feeling that was increasingly rare these past years.

Antonio looked at him blankly, staring at the pants in confusion. It wouldn't be the first time he had been left tied up. He couldn't exactly do anything with his hands tied, but he would do his best. He moved to stand, but the instant he tried to stand... He sank to the ground in soundless pain. He should have been used to it by now, but apparently he was still able to be torn apart inside by the pirate using him for pleasure.

The pirate was not amused by the sight of the mess being made on his bed. Sure it was alright when he made a mess but watching his prisoner eat the tomato was... Arthur glared. It did not help the incredibly pleased look on the Spaniard's face.

England smirked the instant Spain crumbled before him. That amused him. And the pain on his captive's face could be contributed to him entirely. He reached down a scowl making its way to his face to cover the amusement he felt. Pants gripped in one hand still he pulled Spain up by the arm shoving him back onto the bed. It was much harder to dress someone than undressing them. Still Arthur tried, lining up the pants with Anthony's legs and pulling them up.

"You are quite the pathetic whore aren't you?" he asked leaning over his captive hands at the other's waist. "Or you just telling me that you would rather stay in bed with me?" he asked pretending to be ignorant over the fact that Spain's inability to dress himself was due to pain and not want.

Antonio whimpered slightly in pain and fear as he was lifted back onto the bed, worried that Arthur was angry for that. But he helped the pirate by holding his legs up and acting as complacent as possible despite their proximity. He did not wish to invoke the pirate's wrath in any way. Even lust was a better choice. Thank god England didn't drink as much as he could have. Maybe if he found it, he could find a way to dull the mental and physical pain. Maybe even find laudanum.

He whimpered as England situated himself between the frail legs, those cruel words dripping like poisoned honey from his tongue. His legs moved without his permission, widening slightly. Easily mistaken as a confession of desire. He turned his face away in shame of his body's lustful reaction, unable to look the pirate in the eyes as his cheeks burned hotly.

England chuckled kissing his captive's neck. "Not now love, but tonight I'll fulfill your wish," he said chuckling again, his breath ghosting above Spain's skin."Today you're going to prove how much you're going to listen from now on," he said before righting himself. A smirk played about his lips at Anthony spread out on his bed, legs spread eagerly.

If someone had told him over a month ago that he'd have this man broken before him, wanting him, he'd laugh. He would have loved the thought but he never would have believed it. But now, well being on top was better than Arthur had ever imagined. The remorse he had felt before, the longing for a fight from Spain was officially gone. He left Spain spread on his bed grabbing his hat and gun by the door. He glanced back and made a motion for the other to come to him.

Antonio whimpered fearfully as he was kissed, cringing like a beaten dog that feared his master. The words that were spoken though, they allowed him to calm slightly. He gulped as he slowly moved, sitting up and carefully putting weight on his feet. He hurt, and his legs trembled like a newborn colt, but he tottered after Arthur slowly, taking each step carefully in an attempt to lessen the pain. He swallowed as he came to stand behind the pirate with a forlorn and dull expression. He was trapped in the position of being a slave to whatever England desired and risked being thrown to the wolves if he angered the captain. Thank god the male wasn't a total sexual deviant... He had raped Spain multiple times and sodomized him once. But never had he forced him to endure anything worse...

And he was eternally grateful for that fact.

Arthur smirked at Antonio. He could tell from the way the other moved he was in pain. It warmed somewhere deep inside him knowing that he had done it and that Spain would never forget it. He raised a hand caressing the Spaniard's cheek lightly, "We going to behave on deck?" he asked his thumb rubbing light circles against his prisoner's cheek bone. It didn't really matter the response, there was a length of rope outside the door that he intended on using to tie up the Spaniard again anyway. He wasn't going to risk yesterday's attempt happening again.

Antonio nodded mutely, not trusting his voice. He stood shock-still as the pirate suddenly reached out with a hand. He started as he was stroked, trembling with terror, but did not pull away. He opened his mouth, but all that escaped was a soft whimper. He lowered his eyes, not wanting to look at his captor, and felt them sting. His lips twitched as he bit back a sob.

"I... behave... I be good..." He finally managed, his voice a faint whisper on the breeze. He was suitably cowed, and all of his fight was gone. All that was left was this shell of a man. He didn't cry. But, if it did not waste precious moisture... he would have bawled his eyes out.

England smiled and opened the door. "Good," he said before stepping out into the morning light. The rope lay exactly where he remembered. Smirking he grabbed it motioning over his shoulder to Spain to follow. He turned around, the rope quickly looping around the Spaniard's wrists. "Just in case you get a sudden case of hope," he said leaving length to lead the other about just like a pet.  
"Hm, I suppose an upgrade for you," Arthur said tugging on the rope; the smirk disappeared as he called for a crewman. He tossed the end to the other man, "tie him to the upper part of the deck, he gets lose it will be your head," he threatened before walking off.

Antonio followed silently, knowing he could not fight. He couldn't fight back. Not anymore... He squeaked in alarm as he was tied, stepping back in alarm before he could control himself. But after his first moment of surprise, he held out his hands obediently. The way hope was described. Like an affliction. Antonio withered further, becoming more withdrawn into himself. A far cry from his pride that had made him so willing to fight back even after being tortured and hurt.

The instant, the rope transferred hands, he knew. His eyes widened with fear as he recognized the voice of the man who agreed to what the captain said. His eyes shot up to meet the Englishman's own, but the man had walked off. Leaving him with the leering crewman. He opened his mouth to beg Arthur to take him with him, but ... it clicked closed and he followed the leering pirate to the deck. This might not end well...

* * *

AN: I really don't deserve my co-writer. She is amazing for putting up with me for this. Hopefully though, she will agree to finish up this work and begin a new one with me. Next chapter hopefully sooner than this one.


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